


Dreaming Wide Awake

by firedew



Series: Frozen in Place [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family, Friendship, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Recovery, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-01-20 23:04:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1529018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firedew/pseuds/firedew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to "Frozen in Place". With her life coming to a painful and untimely end, Teyla stepped into the stasis pod never expecting to open her eyes on the world again. Then, one day, she did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to “Frozen in Place”. A little advice—if you haven’t read the previous story or are fuzzy on the details, you probably should read (or reread) it before going any further.
> 
> This is a story that was never supposed to exist. I wrote “Frozen in Place” with no intention of carrying it further, but the overwhelming and gracious responses I received got me to thinking, and lo and behold, a fic was born. So this one is dedicated to those of you who requested - sorry - demanded a proper ending. 
> 
> And last but certainly not least, HUGE thanks to nacimynom for her hard work as beta for this story. I couldn't have asked for a better critic, editor, hand-holder, and friend, and I appreciate it more than I can say!

 

 

Teyla blinked, and it was all slow motion. The blackness behind her eyelids, then the fading blue lights behind, in front, all around her. Spinning. Spinning. Black. Then the swirling vortex again as she opened her eyes, her hand reaching out for purchase. Too late, she realized, right before she hit the cold, unforgiving floor. Lying on the ground, listening to the crackling sound of fluid crowding out her lungs, she gasped for air, unable to move.

Dying. She was dying and back inside this body that was out of time.

As the dark ceiling stared forbiddingly down at her, dormant memories surfaced one by one. The first stood out among the rest; the last sight her dim eyes remembered. Him, in this very room, suppressing a dreadful sadness behind a repeated promise she never expected him to be able to keep.

_“You're not in this alone, Teyla. I'll be there. No matter what.”_

She clung to his image as her sight rapidly became little more than a graying illusion.

“John,” she said, her voice a distant echo of what was past, weak, finished, and hoping only for an answer.

Her dreams seemed so real now. They teased her, returning her faint call with a deep, masculine groan that could only be his and a shuffling sound that landed to her right. “I'm here, Teyla. I'm right here.”

“Good … that is good …” she whispered and smiled, allowing herself to be carried away in wistful flights of fancy. The warmth of his hand seemed like fire atop her chilled fingers, a parting gift from her listless mind to her withered body. If she was to die, she would choose no other way. With him, returned to the peace and solace of his arms.

Jarring in their suddenness, voices began clamoring in the background, drowning out her quiet reverie. Her lingering fears of leaving this world coming to claim their final say.

“What the …” John's hand tightened suddenly around her before being ripped away. “Teyla!”

She tried to keep her eyes open, for all the good it did her. Shadows surrounded her, strangers whose voices brought no comfort. Shouting. Too loud. Hands everywhere. A beam of light drilled mercilessly into her black vision, robbing her of what little sight that remained.

She struggled to bring him back, flailing uselessly against the phantoms around her. “John, do not leave me …”

“Teyla, I'm not going anywhere. Who are you? What are you doing to her?!”

“Keep him back!”

The din around her started to bleed together, blending into meaningless chaos. She felt like she was sinking, too frail to fight back, her will nearly gone.

“She's fading faster than we anticipated.”

“Not even stasis can completely halt the body's natural processes,” the nebulous form directly over her barked in a commanding feminine tone. “We can't wait. We have to push it _now_.”

“But it won't work! We need more time.”

“Which we don't have! Just give it to me, get that gurney in here, and have the crash cart on standby.”

There was a tug at the waistband of Teyla pajama bottoms and a searing pain cut deep into the flesh of her hip, knifing with pinpoint precision all the way down to the bone. Her spine and neck reared back in shock.

Teyla screamed.

Noises of a scuffle erupted. Something large hit the ground with a concussive slam, followed by another, and several more voices yelling. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Take it easy!”

“General, you must calm yourself!”

“You're hurting her!” John shouted.

The pain quickly branched outward from its relatively small beginning. As it swarmed over her, reaching and stretching throughout every nerve and fiber of her body, she shook uncontrollably. She nearly missed the sensation of being hoisted up and set down on a more cushioned surface.

“Teyla, stay with us,” the woman coaxed, her misgivings obvious in her tone. A hand vigorously rubbed her shoulder, but Teyla could do nothing. “We need to get her upstairs and on a monitor, stat.”

“Teyla!” John roared. His voice seemed distant and choppy, as though he was struggling, but she latched onto it. She was shutting down, her remaining senses growing muddy and dark, but the agony she was in helped to wrench the delusional shroud from her mind, enforcing a fleeting lucidity.

This was no dream. He was truly here. Just as he promised.

She tried to answer, his name barely coming off as more than a whimper across her lips. Knowing he couldn't hear her let alone heed her cry, she summoned the last of her reserves. “John …” she panted harshly. “ … _John!_ ”

“Pharellys, let him go!” a new voice bellowed. She knew that one, but it fell away too quickly for her to identify.

There was more, arguing perhaps, but Teyla was swiftly passing beyond hearing, beyond any comprehension. Falling precipitously into a pit of blackness, her head crumpled to the side and didn't rise again.

There was a vague sense of being moved, sliding through a slipstream faster and faster, being chased by urgent, pounding footsteps that echoed off the walls.

Then nothing.

For a long time, nothing.

Silent.

Still.

 

 

 

 

A brilliant white light emerged before her, hypnotizing in its allure. Calling out to her with the promise of peace and serenity, flashes of beautiful memories led her quietly along. The burst of a sun's rays split a cloud-ridden sky. Ripples billowed out over the glass surface of a pond. Wind caressed her face as she walked through tall grass with her son's clumsy, undersized fingers closed around hers, his deep almond eyes shining up at her. Sun-kissed and carefree, John smiled at her from behind shaded lenses.

“Clear!”

A shrill alarm shattered the void. Pain exploded within her, amassing in her chest with brutal force. There was a respite for a protracted instant and then it slammed into her again, mercilessly spurring her back to life.

Intermittent beeps chimed at her side. _How much more?_ she wondered as the resonant thrum of her heart settled again into a dull rhythm. What little substance that remained of her was already dissolving, bleeding unchecked through every pore and lost to the great abyss. How much longer could she go on?

A blanket covered her and dutiful hands tucked her in with care. The customary antiseptic smell of the infirmary surrounded her, and still she couldn't move.

Slowly, but finally, it grew quiet. The general aura of people began to disperse, yet she could tell she was not alone. John was here, his presence at her bedside having become so common she would know it anywhere. He was so near it was almost as though she were wrapped up once more inside his embrace, her hand directly over his beating, pulsing, living heart. His imprint still felt fresh on her palm, not diminished in the slightest.

“Hang in there, Teyla. Just hang on,” he said softly, an audible tremor lightly touching her ears. Fingers skimmed along her hand, almost reverently running back and forth. “You have to stay with me. I can't do it again. Not again.”

The crushing weight behind his pleas conjured a vivid image of despair marring his handsome features. From within the confines of her static prison, Teyla's heart wept at her helplessness to comfort him.

All he wanted was for her to live. Ever since that dark day when Dr. Keller informed her that her condition was terminal, that was all he had ever wanted, all he had fought for. So hard, at times, he had failed to see the reality of what was happening in front of him. And Teyla had never borne well the thought of leaving him behind.

She knew the others would be alright in time. Even her son, she recalled with an excruciating pang of regret. He was still so young and, despite their mutual separation, had a father she trusted implicitly to help him recover from her premature loss. Kanaan would love him, care for him, and teach him all the things he would need to know. She had been raised in much the same way. Eventually, Torren would be fine. But John …

He would blame himself.

He would assume responsibility for her death and no amount of reason would persuade him otherwise. In his eyes, she would become another person he had failed. Another person he cared for that he'd let slip away. Her deepest fear was becoming one of the many ghosts he carried with him as he wondered in anguish why. Why had it been her instead of him? Why was it always someone else when he would have gladly traded himself to save another?

She couldn't abide the idea of him grieving for her in that way. It had been hard enough to accept that she was destined to be a reason he would have cause to grieve at all.

She had wanted to live so badly for herself and for them all. She'd tried and tried, and eventually even she had come to accept that she just couldn't. But no matter how battered and worn she had grown, Teyla found she still lacked the simple strength it took to look John in the eye—her friend, a man she knew would endure fire for her, and one that for so long had been the object of a quietly harbored affection—and bid him goodbye.

The monitors continued to periodically sound. John remained, and Teyla rested silently; easier, in spite of the burning that raged inside and her body's oppressive yearning for release. She had already made her choice. Once before, by agreeing to undergo stasis and now again, by choosing to keep fighting. She couldn't die now. If he asked it of her, Teyla knew she would do anything, face anything to spare him more pain.

For John, she would go on forever.


	2. Chapter 2

For untold hours Teyla drifted, continuously hovering somewhere within the great divide between unconsciousness and awareness. There were times when she would cross near enough to waking she could almost, _almost_ open her eyes, only to then be swallowed whole by nothingness, perhaps never to return. But the majority of the time she spent somewhere in between; somewhat aware of her surroundings, but feeling … murky. Strange, as though she was underwater while the veiled tenor of life moved around her, a cold whisper of static forever in the background.

She existed as though she lived inside a dream.

As she moved in and out, she heard ambient sounds, voices—some that sparked a sense of recognition and others completely foreign—and snippets of conversations. She had great difficulty holding on to details. An apology. Things had not gone according to plan. For John, the matter seemed settled even as Teyla struggled to recall what had happened at all. The smell of coffee wafted in at some point and John paced.

In the hazy passage of time, the pain ebbed and she floated. The raspy, aching whine that had become commonplace with every inhale slowly dissipated until nothing remained, except the pure act of breathing.

She sighed aloud, a brief expression of relief that broke free.

“Teyla?”

Her foggy mind jolted back into a pale semblance of cognizance as John called for a doctor, but she could already feel the pendulum swinging her back toward the darkness, pulling her away again. Teyla gripped onto the edge of the precipice, not quite ready to let go of the sound of his voice.

“You need to give it more time, General,” the female voice from earlier admonished him. “As fast as these little guys work, catastrophic multisystem organ failure isn't something they can just slap a Band-Aid on.”

“I know,” John said, quiet and resigned, “It's just … it's been a long time.”

It was true, she thought. She had been in this bed a long time. At least, she thought she had. Had she been? Teyla's mind moved at a frustratingly torpid pace as she slipped further. But something in John's voice told her that wasn't what he meant. A deep and penetrating sorrow. Enduring regret.

 _General?_ Teyla questioned herself belatedly. The woman had referred to John as “General.” His promotion to full Colonel had been only a little over a year ago. When had John become a general?

Despite the worry creeping in, Teyla couldn't think. She tried to resist the mesmeric pull carrying her downward, but it was a losing battle. She only hung on to consciousness by the barest shred.

There was a brief pause, then the doctor said, “Don't worry. She seems to be stabilizing. She'll get there soon enough.”

John never answered. Teyla only heard a heavy exhale and then his hand returned to completely cover hers. One thing she remembered with no trouble and no doubt—she loved it when he touched her. Her questions flickered and died as her body reacted in eager acceptance, innately granting her the most splendid essence of peace. His borrowed warmth and the soft brush of his skin reminded her she was alive, stoking a fire where there were only sparks left among the ashes.

As she succumbed to the cold whispers demanding she submit to oblivion, she embraced the euphoric memory of what it had been to sleep once in the fullness of John's arms, the final piece in her entire world holding her tight and refusing to let her surrender to providence. Safe. Home.

Teyla didn’t fall. She flew.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My continued thanks to nacimynom for her incredible beta work. All remaining mistakes are solely my doing.

When Teyla finally surfaced, her eyes fluttered and very gradually opened on a new world. At least, it seemed that way. Before her health was stricken, her vision had always been keen. However, once she became ill, her eyesight had withered along with the rest of her body, growing blurry and dull as her condition deteriorated. As she became more aware, every smudged line and stunted hue cleared, becoming clean and vibrant in a way they hadn't in those last few months. Perhaps it wasn't so much the world around her that was new. Perhaps it was her eyes.

Laboring to shed the exhaustive pull that had kept her bound, her head lolled slowly to the left and she glanced around, beginning to soak in her surroundings. And it was most assuredly not the Atlantis she remembered.

Even from the relatively isolated section of the infirmary she occupied, she could see it was still very much the great city of the Ancestors, its grand architecture and the core of its foundation unchanged in ten thousand years. It was the smaller things, the new things brought here by the Atlantis expedition that had changed. The look of the monitors and emergency equipment that surrounded her in foreboding quantities, the beds—all more sterile and streamlined. Uniforms were also different. The few medical personnel she saw appeared to be wearing something of Earth design, though cut differently than she remembered. The patches and symbols they wore suggested she was correct as the Stargate's symbol for Earth, the two prevailing slants unified in the center with a single circle overhead, was prominent on their sleeves. Further away, security seemed to have similar characteristics, although their uniforms departed in color.

But there were several others present clad in a uniform that was entirely unfamiliar. A trio of men in peak physical form wore black with a thick, gray band running along the sleeves and the length of their pants. There was a design over the breast of their jackets, also in gray, but the symbol itself was a mystery to her. She didn’t recognize any of the men, but they appeared quite at home; huddled together and quietly joking among themselves. Waiting yet relaxed, as though they belonged.

A sudden current of anxiety caused Teyla's heart to race. If those men called Atlantis home, did that mean _she_ had become the stranger here? How long had she been in stasis?

John. Where was John?

With greater determination and effort, Teyla rolled her head to the other side, urgently seeking him out. She needed to see him, to verify that his presence had been real and not a hallucination. That she wasn't alone.

She found him quickly. He was only a short distance across the infirmary, angled so his back was toward her, but not so far that she couldn’t immediately identify him. Standing stiffly with his arms crossed over his chest, he was speaking inaudibly with a woman; a doctor, if her assumptions about the current uniforms were accurate. The woman—near her own age or perhaps a few years younger—had long strawberry-blonde hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. She also looked strikingly familiar despite the fact that Teyla had never seen her before.

John shook his head impatiently at what she was saying and Teyla looked on, an unexpressed hope on her lips, wanting him to find her and come for her.

In the thick of what appeared to be a heavy conversation, the doctor casually glanced in her direction and caught her eyes on them. Teyla saw her say something to John and his head suddenly swiveled in her direction, his rakish profile coming out of the shadows. His arms dropped to his sides. He seemed stunned. But in a beautiful instant, one that stirred tears behind her eyes, his face changed.

He smiled.

It wasn't big or flashy. It was hesitant, as though he was wondering himself if what he was seeing was truly real, yet utterly genuine. Within moments, his doubts fell away and he started toward her. Teyla saw something in his eyes come to life. John Sheppard, a man who had flown as close to the stars as any ever did, looked at her as though he were seeing the sun for the first time.

Teyla propped her elbows beneath her and tried to sit up, but stalled halfway through. The pain had gone, but she remained very weak.

“Teyla, let me,” John said, gently clasping her hand while reaching around her back to raise her up. Teyla gratefully acquiesced. He had spent so much time with her while she was sick that they had done this maneuver countless times. “Take it slow. Nice and easy.”

Once she was upright, he carefully settled down on the edge of the mattress, close enough for her to feel his warmth radiating outward. His hands failing to release her, he waited as Teyla attempted to catch her breath, the small effort enough to get her winded. His eyes roved over her and a sense of wonder filled his penetrating gaze. He seemed to be watching her every movement, no matter how slight. His lips moved as though he were seeking the right words, but nothing came. She didn't have any either, her throat constricted in her joy to see him. Nearly overcome, she buried her face in the hollow of his neck and he enveloped her in his arms.

His chin came to rest atop her head as she immersed herself in him, letting him quietly shelter and protect her until she was ready to emerge. A slight quaver in his hand vanished as he began to rub her back. John's chest moved powerfully against hers as he held her tight. As she clutched at him, his heart pounded out a hurried rhythm in her ears. A firm kiss was pressed into her hair and Teyla lifted her head.

With soft, searching eyes, she memorized his face. He held still, staring unflinchingly back at her as her fingers brushed his cheeks and ran up along his temples, over his forehead. He was very much the same, yet she could see in every new line and crease around his smoldering, hazel eyes that he had not walked an easy path since she had last been able to admire him. His invariably untamed hair had picked up more gray, outlining that cherished face that had long ago grown accustomed to hiding what lay within yet expressed so much.

Her thumb stroked his cheek. She expected him to pull away at any moment, but he stayed, never wavering from her touch or scrutiny. In a voice that reached out in a velvet caress, he asked, “Am I that different?”

“No,” she whispered. He was still John Sheppard. Somewhat older perhaps, but the same man who had so wholly earned her respect, her unswerving loyalty, and a truly singular place in her heart.

A shy, sideways grin appeared. “Good.”

His obvious satisfaction made her smile. Teyla tipped her forehead forward. He leaned in readily, accepting and cradling her in the most wonderful fashion. Her fingers played in the hair at the base of his neck as his strong arms stretched across her back. A glorious memory played out in the back of her mind of them being in a similar position and him reaching out, molding his lips to hers.

She could have stayed there for hours, reveling in memory and new discovery, but glancing over his shoulder, the view behind him of a home she did not recognize soon dampened the mood. If the changes in his appearance were any indicator of the amount of time that had passed, she shuddered to think of her son and how much of his childhood may have been stolen from her.

“What has happened, John?”

He broke away slowly, his expression taking a serious turn. “It's a long story.”

One, it seemed, he would have a hard time telling. A pregnant pause hung heavily in the air between them.

“Sorry to interrupt, General, but I really need to get at my patient for a few minutes.”

She and John both turned, beginning to separate for the first time since their reunion had begun. The same woman was waiting expectantly a respectful distance away and Teyla recognized her as one of the nameless voices that had called her back from the brink.

John glanced toward the doctor and back to Teyla, his mouth screwed up into a wary frown. “Teyla, this is … Dr. Miller.”

The doctor shuffled a few paces closer, seemingly content to give Teyla plenty of space for the time being. “Nice to finally meet you, Teyla,” she said with a brilliant smile. “Believe me when I say I've heard so much about you.”

She stole an uncertain glance at John and he gave her a subtle, encouraging nod. “You have?”

“Absolutely,” the woman said, her features so bright and open. Something about her tugged at Teyla, but she couldn't figure out what it was. Keeping her tone upbeat, Dr. Miller stepped up to the foot of the bed. “How are you feeling?”

John straightened slightly, seeming intent on her answer.

“Better,” she volunteered quickly. It was a reflex she had never managed to outgrow, but after a moment to focus on the sensations teeming within her, she quietly admitted, “I am … tired. Light-headed.”

It was more than that. Aside from the obvious soreness on the left side of her chest where they had shocked her heart, she felt odd. Out of balance.

“My skin is tingling. It is … quite strange.” She flexed her right hand, opening and closing her fist, and staring down at it. There seemed to be an undercurrent of electricity humming beneath her flesh. It was stimulating to a point nearing outright discomfort and was highly unsettling.

An unreadable expression written on his face as he observed her fretting at the pads of her fingers, John took her hand and held it firmly. “It's okay.”

Dr. Miller's deportment remained very matter-of-fact, but a quirk of her lips indicated she was enthused by her response. “That's pretty typical of Phase One. Good, though. Considering the shape you were in when we got to you, it's _really_ good. I'd like to wait for your vitals to get a little stronger before initiating Phase Two.”

Teyla blinked. “I am sorry. What is Phase One?”

“Right. I don't suppose that made much sense, did it?” Her mouth curled in chagrin as she peered meaningfully around at the infirmary. “I don't suppose much of this does.”

Teyla tried to hide her uneasiness. She preferred even a dim facade of strength to this uncertainty.

The doctor squared her shoulders. “Well, Teyla, as you know, the poison you were infected with did a particularly thorough job on you. The hemotoxin component alone caused a staggering amount of tissue and organ damage, virtually crippling your body’s ability to function at even the most basic levels, and the poison’s neurotoxic properties wreaked havoc on your nervous system as well.”

Teyla looked away, finding it difficult to be reminded of the disastrous consequences that had resulted from catching a simple thorn offworld.

“Finding a treatment for you that could undo that amount of damage and act quickly … well, it wasn't easy,” the doctor continued, biting her lip. She was treading carefully and Teyla wanted to know why. “Phase One is essentially a new life support system we've developed.”

“ _Rodney_ developed,” John said, obviously trying to make her feel more comfortable by bringing up a friendly association in this somewhat alien environment. He squeezed her hand.

“With a little help,” Dr. Miller said with a competitive grin. “It mimics your organs’ basic functions. Though … as fine-tuned as it is, it's still not quite the same as the real thing. That's why you're feeling a bit off right now. Your normal functions are being artificially regulated at the moment.”

“I see.”

“Given how far advanced your case was, Teyla, we knew that in reviving you we’d be up against a very tight time frame. We had no other way to heal your body’s degradation before your organs failed completely. Conventional life support wouldn't have been remotely sufficient and would've done nothing to neutralize the further spread of the poison. Phase One was our only recourse to keep you alive and filter out the poison, until you're strong enough for Phase Two. That's when the real healing begins.”

“How is all this even possible?” Teyla asked, leery of the answer. She should be dead. She could feel it her fingertips. Yet she was awake and in reasonable control.

John drew her eye. “Nanites, Teyla. They injected you with nanites.”

Teyla sucked in a sharp breath. Sinister images of Replicators and what had happened to Elizabeth crashed in on her. She could easily believe that Rodney would be rash enough to attempt something like this, but John? He wouldn't.

“You knew about this? You knew what they were planning to do?”

“I didn't, I swear,” he said quickly. “But after listening to them explain … if it'll save you, Teyla … ”

“John, you know what happened when the Replicators were turned loose upon this galaxy. No one’s life is worth taking that risk!”

His jaw grew taut and Teyla gaped at him in disbelief. When Rodney and Jennifer had revived Elizabeth using the Replicator nanites in her bloodstream, he had been furious. More angry than she had ever seen him before or since. But there was none of that in his expression, only an internal struggle of a man that was desperate to see only one side. She could not fathom what could have caused such a change in him.

Perhaps sensing the need for an intervention, Dr. Miller came and sat down in the chair next to the bed. “Teyla, I understand that, given your experiences in the past with nanite technology, you might be skeptical. But, I _promise_ you, there is no danger of these nanites getting out of control. Unc—Doctor … McKay … has been perfecting this programming for years, since long before I got involved. There are incredibly complex subroutines written into the nanites' base code, providing them their operating parameters and preventing them from replicating. Not to mention, they've been put through extensive clinical trials. When the Phase Two-type nanites have finished their repairs and your body's systems are able to operate under their own steam again, they're programmed to broadcast a low yield EM burst, deactivating every single nanite within a fifty foot range. Both the Phase One nanites that are acting as your artificial life support and the Phase Two’s rebuilding your biological components will be rendered inert. Once that happens, your body will be able to break them down naturally. This _will_ work. And you'll be healthy and normal in every way.”

Teyla turned away, needing a moment. She wanted to believe everything the doctor was telling her, that she could survive this and become the woman she had once been without harm to anyone. But glancing around, she spotted those men she had seen before, who seemed much more vigilant now that they were aware she was awake. Was it paranoia to find their attention disturbing? After all, this wasn't her home anymore and these weren't the people she knew so well. The comfort and familiarity she used to feel here were gone. She felt very alone; the only face in the room she trusted was John's.

“Where is Rodney? Where is he?” she said, wanting to ask her friend about all of this and hating the anxiety creeping into the pit of her stomach because he wasn't there. No one was. John groped for words and she kept going, growing more agitated with every syllable. “When did this …? What has happened here? Where is Ronon? And Jennifer? Carson? What has happened to everyone? _Where … is my son?_ ”

A harsh gasp tore from her throat as an abrupt, sharp pain stabbed at her abdomen.

“Teyla, you need to try and stay calm.” The soft warning from Dr. Miller went largely ignored. Her respiration rapidly accelerated, becoming erratic as her body grew rigid. She kicked out involuntarily as the current beneath her skin grew immeasurably.

John’s arms encircled her stomach and caged her against his body. “I’ve got you. It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

Maintaining a professional calm, the doctor reached for a portable scanner from a nearby table. As it floated over her, Teyla’s vision began to swim, the momentary illusion of strength dissipating, her limbs turning to mush. She melted into John’s side.

“Deep, slow breaths … just try to relax. If the stress on your system goes beyond tolerable levels, the nanites will act accordingly to maintain organ viability.”

“What does that mean?” John hissed, gently supporting Teyla's weight so she was reclining nearly in his lap while doctor took her readings.

“She'll pass out.”

He grumbled in annoyance. “Why didn't you just say that in the first place? I swear, you're more like McKay than you think.”

Dr. Miller smirked, keeping a studious eye on her patient. “That’s it. You're doing fine, Teyla. Just keep breathing. In and out.”

Teyla laid there, watching and trying to stave off the clouds at the edge of her vision. She hadn't expected her fears to take control of her so quickly. For a moment, she had almost forgotten the weakened state she was still in and how little her frail body could stand.

John peered down at her, concern painting his expression. A look in his hazel eyes asked if she was alright. She could only squeeze his wrist. He responded with a heavy exhale and brushed her bangs back. “Rodney's right outside, Teyla,” he told her cautiously. “So's … so is TJ.”

Slow breaths rolled through her. “I want to see them.”

“I know. I just don't know that it's such a good idea right now. Maybe you should rest. Get your strength back.”

Looking up into his eyes, a tear sprang loose and wet her temple. What was he hiding? What was so horrible that he would wish to keep her from seeing her son? How much time had she lost? She gulped back a sob, aiming to keep her center but worried it would fail as had the rest of her. “John, _please_.”

He grimaced, clearly plagued by doubts. He glanced up to Dr. Miller who held a similar demeanor.

“It's your call, General,” Dr. Miller said quietly.

John grew tight lipped, but eventually he relented. “Okay, but … we need to talk first.”

Teyla closed her eyes in relief, then nodded. He carefully scooted aside and helped her lie back on the bed. The fluffy cushion of the pillow felt wonderful behind her head, but she already missed the security that John's arms lent. He draped the blankets over her.

Once that was finished, John sat back down on the mattress, absently scrubbing his palms against his pant legs as he regained his bearings. “I suppose I should … start with a few proper introductions. John Sheppard.”

Teyla looked at him quizzically, confounded as to why he was speaking as though they were meeting again for the first time.

“ _General_ John Sheppard. Retired. Well … sort of,” he amended, his lips curling sheepishly. He was clearly nervous, but his manner couldn't hold back his natural charm. “And this … is Dr. Madison Miller, CMO of Atlantis Colony.”

Teyla felt her breath hitch. “Madison … as in … ”

“Jeannie,” he confirmed solemnly. “The doc here is McKay's niece.”

Teyla’s gaze wandered over the young woman and soon enough, she realized what it was she had recognized in her before. Jeannie's big, blue eyes and endearing smile. Madison had a 'take no prisoners' stance that seemed to come straight from Rodney, but it was tempered with an awareness that Teyla’s beloved friend sometimes lacked. Teyla had only ever known Madison from stories and photographs, and she couldn't quite bring herself to mention how much she'd grown.

“And … Atlantis has become a colony?” she asked instead.

John nodded, but said nothing. He deferred to Dr. Miller as though he were much more comfortable leaving the answers to her. Again, Teyla wondered why. “For about nine years now. Ever since the Stargate program was declassified.”

Teyla tried not to act thrown. Nine years? That seemed about right, judging from John's altered appearance, but she had a hard time picturing the change that nine years might have wrought in Torren. Then again, Madison was considerably more than nine years older than she should have been.

She regarded John again. There was something more to all of this. Something they hadn't told her yet, because—as Rodney would say—the math was not adding up.

“Mostly, our residents are family members of the people assigned here from Earth. Husbands, wives, kids, that kind of thing. But, as I was telling Gen. Sheppard, Atlantis has also become home base for the Coalition Council and a small military contingent from the represented worlds that act as bodyguards. They come and go as needed when the Council’s in session, but overall, they call Atlantis home a decent amount of the time.”

Before Teyla could let herself ponder too long why Madison would have to tell John about any of this, her eyes wandered back to the soldiers waiting not far away. They still watched her. She indicated in their direction. “And they are of this … Coalition Guard?”

Madison tossed a benign scowl their way. “Yes. I told the Council they would only be under foot, but of course, no one listens to the doctor.” She sighed and cracked a smile, probably in the hopes that a little levity might defuse the tense situation. “I suppose I can't blame them in this case. The, um … Athosian representative … was pretty insistent and it seemed to make him feel more at ease having more people watching out for you.” She looked apologetically at John. “I wanted to say sorry again about what they did earlier, General. They thought they were doing the right thing. We were hoping to get the two of you upstairs first and explain what was going on before we proceeded with anything, but … ”

She had been dying too quickly, Teyla finished for herself. Some of her disjointed memories were starting to make sense. There hadn't been time for explanations. If they had waited any longer to put their plan into motion, she would not be sitting here now. However, in sacrificing communication for expediency's sake, for John the situation had grown heated.

But it didn't make sense that John would not have been made fully aware of what they intended from the beginning.

“You did what you had to do,” John said.

“And so did you,” Madison remarked. “Though, I don't think Pharellys and his guys were quite expecting what they got. You cracked a few of Treja's ribs and Gorran is gonna be sporting a pretty nasty shiner for a few days.”

John snorted, clearly not overly burdened with guilt on the matter. “Sorry about that.”

“Your record speaks for itself, General. I still remember you bringing my mom back to me. They should've known better.”

He ducked her admiring glance. “Yeah, well …”

The dim recollection of the altercation in the stasis chamber played over and over in Teyla's mind. Someone shouting to the guards to let John go. “The Athosian delegate called them off, did he not?”

“Yeah,” John said. “Listen, Teyla … ”

“Kanaan?” she asked, distracted. No, it was not Kanaan.

John shook his head, confirming for her that it wasn't her childhood playmate's voice that had spoken with such authority. It wouldn't have been very like him in any case. Kanaan had never been one to speak out with his whole voice. He’d always preferred the quieter course.

But it had sounded so like him.

John looked over at Madison. “Why don't you go ahead and …?” He gestured toward the infirmary entrance, where Teyla assumed Rodney was waiting along with her son. “We just need a minute.”

Madison sent Teyla a polite smile. “No problem.”

Once they were alone, he grew somber.

“You can tell me, John,” she whispered. She wished she wasn't presenting such a vulnerable picture to him. Perhaps then he would feel better about sharing the truth with her. As it was, it was a challenge to keep her voice from shaking. “Whatever it is, I will be fine.”

He smiled suddenly. She thought she caught the sight of tears before he blinked them away. “I know you will, Teyla. If anyone could, it’s you.”

Wet heat began crowding in her eyes as well. However many years she had been in stasis, he'd obviously missed her and that knowledge both thrilled and filled her with heartache. She reached out and slowly threaded her fingers into his.

He lifted his head, squeezing her hand tenderly. His voice came out as gravel, rough and broken. “I was hoping they'd come through, but … I wasn't sure. I waited. For ten years … I waited …”

She said nothing, allowing him to tell her what he had to in his own way. “Rodney did it, Teyla,” he said, his gaze loaded with an apology. “It took him another sixteen years, but he did it.”

Teyla went rigid and a few ragged breaths burst from her. “It has been …”

“Twenty-six years. Since you went into stasis. Since we lost you.”

She searched him over and over and over again. He may have been older, but he was still so … beautiful. Magnetic. Disarming. He was _not_ twenty-six years past the man she knew.

Madison soon appeared over John's shoulder, inquiring if everything was alright. John's steel gaze never moved from Teyla. She swallowed deeply, feeling numb. For a moment, the term 'shock' took on a whole new meaning for her, but regardless of the circumstances, Teyla wasn't going to allow anything to get in the way of seeing her son. She needed to see him to banish her final memories of him: age three and bawling into her shoulder, not truly understanding as she said farewell.

_“I am so sorry, my son. I love you ... more than my heart can bear. I always will.”_

_“Momma, don’t go!”_

“Yes …” Teyla whispered, concealing a distressed gasp. “Yes, we are fine.”

She could see Madison wasn't convinced. She seemed to accept Teyla's assurances, though, but not before asking one last time, “You're sure you're up for this?”

Teyla nodded quickly.

“Just for a minute,” the doctor turned to advise her visitors.

Rodney was first to emerge and, for a second, Teyla thought she must still be dreaming. That this couldn't be real. His familiar, distinctive voice shattered that illusion, however, ever the same even though he was now a man in the latter half of his sixties. His face, so often firmly set in stubborn defiance, was masked over by emotion. “Teyla, you look … It-it’s really good to see you.” His glassy eyes caught John's. “Both of you.”

John cracked a small smile and tipped his head in respect, a humble acknowledgment of his deep gratitude for all their friend had done to bring her to this point.

“Rodney,” Teyla said, incapable of more as she choked up, thinking of how much she was indebted to him and having caught sight of the one entering behind him.

There was no mistaking him. Teyla instantly saw her little boy, only he was no longer little. He was a man. Grown. If she had truly been in stasis for twenty-six years, he would be nearing thirty. She saw herself in him. Her soft features and rich caramel skin blended with accents of his father, mainly in the cropped, black hair.

“Hello, mother,” he said in a seasoned baritone, much more reminiscent of Kanaan’s reserve than the undeniable command he had demonstrated in ordering away the guards. He hung back reticently, with the bearing of someone ordinarily confident and capable now left uncertain.

Did he even remember her?

John unassumingly rose from the bed, freeing the space at Teyla’s side; a subtle and silent nudge between him and her son.

Taking the hint, Torren carefully sidled next to her, the mattress shifting as he settled into John’s vacated place. His hand hovered over hers, thick with the desire to touch her, but perhaps fearful he would hurt her.

“It's okay, TJ,” John encouraged, standing next to Rodney. Two comrades who had once been very nearly the same age. No longer.

Torren's hand stretched and took hers into his grip. For all his hesitancy, he seemed to take comfort when she pressed back. It was as though he at least remembered her touch. He looked down at her with the untarnished eyes of a child. “Momma?”

Teyla managed a smile, even as a stream of tears began to fall. “Torren, my sweet boy.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to nacimynom. Because she rocks.

Teyla’s eyes flew open as her hands tore at the crisp, white sheets where they had only moments ago been desperately clawing at the barrier of her cold prison. Catching herself quickly, she groaned and slumped against her pillow. Around her the darkest, quietest hours of the morning still reigned. The infirmary was dimly lit and, with the exception of a few nighttime personnel, it was nearly deserted.

“Nightmare, huh?”

She turned her head and saw John sitting in the chair close to the bed, one leg casually slung over the opposite knee, a small computer tablet alight in his hand. A reading lamp shone warmly over his shoulder, revealing him in a simple t-shirt and a pair of loose-fitting pants. His hair had a disheveled quality about it that went beyond its normal, unruly status, not helped any as he ran a lazy hand through it. Although, he’d been assigned temporary quarters by the current base commander, he didn’t appear to have fared any better than she.

“You, as well?”

He skillfully avoided the question with a nonchalant shrug. “It’s probably from you being in stasis for so long. The first time I got out of the deep freeze, I had ‘em for over a week. Trapped. Not able to get out while the pod slowly filled up with sand. Sound about right?”

“Yes.” Teyla listed onto her side. “Except for the sand.”

“My own personal touch, I guess,” he said with a faint smirk. “Not that it makes that big of a difference. I don’t sleep all that much anymore.”

Not that he ever had, Teyla recalled nostalgically. Odd hours had almost been a prerequisite for his job and John had seemed uniquely qualified for it, always late to bed, early to rise, and often appearing at the most uncanny times in between. One thing she was strangely glad to see hadn’t changed.

He soon grew pensive, his head crooking to the side in mild concern. “You okay? You had a hell of a day.”

“Very true,” she admitted, tiredly. Being told she was twenty-six years out of her own time would have been enough to endure were she in prime condition, but Teyla had been in no shape to accept the news without consequence.

The strain of emotions had taken its toll on her fragile state and at the first grimace, Dr. Miller had admonished Torren and Rodney to keep their visit short. They had stayed only long enough to reassure her that they weren’t leaving any time soon. As the chosen voice for the Athosians among the Coalition, Torren frequently traveled back and forth from New Athos and would extend his current stay as long as was needed to see that she was well tended during her recovery. And Rodney, while no longer Head of Science—having stepped down several years ago to concentrate on completing his work with the nanites—remained a permanent resident in Atlantis Colony along with his wife. Another piece of news that had surprised Teyla.

Though not John, it seemed.

“Do you remember that he contacted Katie to analyze the plant that did this to you?” he had asked when he noticed her curiosity. Rodney had observed with good-natured distrust as John explained.

“She transferred back to Atlantis and assembled a team,” she’d said, pleased to recall something of import.

He nodded. “Well, Katie was the only one McKay trusted to do the job right. And, _eventually_ ,” he emphasized for Rodney’s benefit, “one thing led to another, Rodney got down on his knee and begged ...”

“... and they were married.”

“I know it’s a little weird to think of McKay being married. But, trust me, it’s even weirder to think that it’s lasted this long.”

The understated wink he gave her then and the resentful “Hey!” from Rodney marked the first time Teyla had laughed since learning her life was destined to be cut short. After such an elongated period of heartache and tumult, John had given her an extraordinary gift.

His unmatched ability to know exactly what she needed most was what had given her the strength to undergo the battery of tests that came next as well as the welcoming and thankfully succinct visit from Atlantis’ current commander and military leader. The only time John had left her the entire day was when Col. Edison had briefly pulled him aside on his way out. Otherwise, he remained a constant presence, talking to her and telling her more of the events she had missed, acting as her touchstone while the nanites in her bloodstream worked to bolster her vital signs. He helped her relax when she needed it and tried to distract her every time he sensed her thoughts drifting back to Torren.

Even the news, a few hours ago, that she had finally stabilized enough to begin Phase Two of her treatment had not been enough to pull her away from the idea that her young son had become a man while she slept.

She glanced up from her bed at John, who returned her gaze as though he knew exactly where her mind had traveled. She said quietly, “He is so different.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since he was thirteen and the kid still calls me ‘Uncle John’.” He offered her a soothing smile. Teyla was immensely grateful he cared enough to put forth the effort, but it was momentarily overshadowed by a twinge of unbridled envy. He had seen Torren grow, had known him as a young teenager while she could only imagine it.

“He is not a child anymore, John. It was only yesterday … he was a child.”

“I know it seems that way.” He leaned forward, elbows braced on his thighs. “Madison says you’re gonna be as good as new in a few days. Once you’re out of here and you get a chance to look around, maybe it won’t seem so bad.”

Her eyes flitted to the blank, dark ceiling. “You are probably right.”

“I’m sorry. It’s not much of a consolation prize for being unable to raise your son, is it?”

“I was never going to be able to raise Torren,” she said, more to herself than anything. She would need to accept that sooner or later. Lamenting the years lost was ludicrous when, at least this way, she had been granted the chance to know him at all. She would choose this course over death any day.

Still, somewhere within, a part of her mourned.

John sighed. His leg dropped to the floor as he scooted closer, a thin frown on his face. “Listen, McKay’s gonna dial up Sateda in the morning and radio Ronon. Let him know you’re back. I guess he didn’t want to tell him ... you know ... in case things didn’t go so well.”

She nodded, her gaze drawn back downward. “It will be good to see him.”

“Yeah.” John paused and, for a moment, he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Ronon … He, uh, took it pretty hard when you … We all did.”

Teyla reached for his hand. He met her halfway and held it snugly. There was so much churning behind his eyes, so much they needed to say, things they had yet to talk about and questions that had yet to be asked. John had not come out and said what it was he had done for her, but Teyla had figured it out soon enough. It was the only logical explanation for why he had not aged as much as the others, and with the things he said, he didn’t act as though he was trying to hide it.

But they had yet to speak of it. Much like before she had been placed in stasis, they didn’t speak of a lot of things; how she had felt being the loser in the most important fight of her life, the nearly imperceptible shift in their relationship as he had lingered by her side during her struggle. How certain boundaries between them, that had once seemed so important, had faded away as though they had never existed.

And finally, there had been the kiss. Just one. One moment of magic in the waning hours of her life, she thought as her fingers tenderly laced in and out along his. One they had shared when to her all hope was gone, and hope was all he had left. How could any words have ever summed up all they had said to each other in that one simple, exquisite moment?

Even now she found it impossible.

Teyla slowly pulled her hand away and tucked it into her chest. She quietly indicated the small computer resting in his lap. “What are you doing?”

John glanced down. “Um ... just playing catch up. Modern History of Pegasus with a special emphasis on the last fifteen years or so. It’s not a bad bedtime story overall. The content’s okay—new worlds, new species, new technologies—but mission reports tend to read a little dry. If you want, I could read you some. Oughta help you get back to sleep in no time.”

A wan smile formed on her lips. The notion of sleep wasn’t sitting well with her at the moment. “Perhaps something else?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Anything would be fine.” In truth, she only wanted to listen to the reassuring sound of his voice.

“Once upon a time?”

She shook her head. “Tell me something real.”

“So no _Friday the 13th_ then?”

Teyla shot him a halfhearted glare.

“Got it. No hockey masks tonight.” John sat back and played with his hands, mulling over her request. “Well, if you want real, I can do real. Once upon a time ...”

At his hesitation, Teyla arched an eyebrow in amused suspicion. “Just listen,” he said, holding up his hand to placate her. “There was this helicopter pilot. Pretty good guy. Charming, devastatingly handsome, decent sense of humor ...” She smiled and John continued, a playful grin forming as he went. “One day, this pilot was ferrying a passenger. Someone fairly important, but it was all pretty standard stuff. Then, out of nowhere, someone’s shooting at him. He doesn’t know what’s going on. He just flies his ass off, trying not to get blown out of the sky. Turns out it was all a nefarious plot cooked up by a doctor with a shady foreign accent and his assistant, the mad scientist.”

Teyla giggled. “I believe I have heard this one.”

“Well, it’s a classic,” he said, a bright glint in his eyes. “You’ve probably heard the part about how he gets sucked through the magic portal and finds himself in a strange new land too.”

“I have, indeed.”

“Then you know all about the day this pilot met the exotic, alien princess.”

“Alien princess?” she said with bemused disbelief.

“Hey, you can’t argue with the guy telling the story.”

“Oh? And what if he is presenting an exaggerated account?”

“Do you want to take over?”

Teyla’s lips curled at the challenge, drawn back to that pivotal morning, many years ago now. “He was quite alien himself, if I recall. Speaking of strange things like Ferris wheels and college football. He was ... surprising. Not what the princess expected.”

“Yeah?”

She smiled. “He was exceptional.”

John’s brow raised teasingly. “Is that why she dragged him out into the middle of the woods all alone? Because he was ... exceptional?”

“I did no such …” At his self-satisfied smirk, Teyla reined herself in. “The princess did not _drag_ him anywhere. She merely offered to show him something she thought might prove valuable. And he seemed willing enough to brave a short walk to the caves.”

“I fell on my face,” he muttered peevishly and her chest began to quiver with laughter.

“Yes, you did. Though you covered it well.”

“Impressed?”

“Very,” she assured him. “Tell me more, John. What did this helicopter pilot and the princess do next?”

He smiled softly. “Well … after a pretty hairy encounter with a creepy red-headed harpy, the princess decided he was gonna need a little help if he was going to stay out of trouble in this new land. So, she came to live with him in the Hidden City. And … for a long time, it was just them, the Wookie, and the mad scientist, going out and having adventures. Helping people.

John glanced down at his feet, before returning his gaze to her. “There were ... a lot of hard times, and along the way they lost some good friends. But they stayed together and got through it. They watched each other’s backs, kept each other safe. The pilot … He thought it was a pretty good life.”

“It was,” she said. “A very good life.”

“Then ...” His voice suddenly dropped so low she had to strain to hear. “Everything changed.”

Knowing what came next, Teyla felt her eyes growing moist.

John no longer looked at her. He focused on the dark infirmary, seeking distance against painful memories that her presence had undoubtedly brought far too close to the surface. “The princess came home one day and found a ... a scratch on her arm. She said she’d caught it on a thorn hiking back to the Gate. Nobody thought anything of it. The doctors checked her out, cleaned it up, and sent her on her way. It seemed like nothing.” She heard a shudder as he exhaled. “Then, she started to get sick. She … kept getting worse and worse, and nothing the doctors did helped. The pilot ... he didn’t know what to do.”

“So he helped her into a chamber of ice in the hope that, one day, she would return and be saved,” she said, helping him along and swallowing her own pain. Revisiting this particular memory was hurting him and she didn’t want this fleeting time alone together to be shrouded in sorrow. “I am afraid that is all I know, John. You will have to tell the rest. What did the pilot do after that?”

He turned back toward her, the game irreparably changed. “Worked. Put my head down and did my job.”

“When did you become a general?”

“Near the end of the war. It ...” He shook his head. A sour note weaved its way across his expression. “It doesn’t really matter anymore. All that was a lifetime ago.”

“It is a great honor,” she said. She valued all that he had accomplished in her absence and wanted him to know it. “You ended ten thousand years of systematic oppression and murder. The people of this galaxy finally have the chance to live and to hold on to their families. To discover what heights they might reach because of what you did. That _matters_. I am … so proud of you, John.”

In the soft light, his hazel eyes penetrated her in a bereft stare, a bald sense of purpose radiating through him, an intrinsic power he ordinarily held in reserve. Teyla could recall having seen him this way only a handful of times in all the years that had known each other. But was this the same John? He hadn’t changed nearly as much as the others, but he clearly carried old wounds she knew nothing about. Both the physical kind and others that were far less tangible. How well could she possibly know him anymore?

“I didn’t deserve that promotion, Teyla. I didn’t want it. I’m not some wartime hero, and I didn’t keep fighting the Wraith because I was on some noble crusade to liberate Pegasus. Hell, I’m the one that woke them up in the first place.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but he stopped her with a fierce look of longing. “I did it for you, Teyla. Whatever anyone else thinks, I want you to know … it was all for you.”

“Oh, John,” she whispered as she choked back a fresh wave of tears.

Teyla felt his coarse, masculine hand on her face, firm and warm. He encompassed the nape of her neck, his thumb stroking her cheek with a shocking gentleness. “You don’t have to say anything, Teyla. I can’t imagine what today has been like for you and I don’t want to make it any harder. I just want you to know … there wasn’t a single day that went by where I didn’t think about you. I never forgot.”

Teyla’s breath quivered beneath her breasts, hardly daring to believe what she was hearing was real. She reached up, covered his hand, and pulled it closer. He leaned in and filled her vision, again becoming her entire world, and she felt the tantalizing press of his lips against her forehead. He took his time, lingering on her skin as his hot breath added a new dimension to his intimate caress and left her heart screaming for more.

“John,” she managed quietly, her fingers gliding over the dark stubble on his lower cheek as he pulled back. “I …”

“Shh. Just rest, Teyla. We have all the time in the world now,” he said in low voice that wouldn’t be denied. “When you’re better, I promise. But for now you need to rest.”

“I cannot,” she whimpered, suddenly frightened beyond anything she had felt in many years, possibly since the culling that took her father from her. “John, what if I close my eyes and everything disappears again? Torren … you ...”

He grasped her hand tightly. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

A tremulous smile peeked out from behind the mask of fear on her face. How many times had John already vowed that he would be there when she finally awoke from stasis? More times than she could count. Even so, she couldn’t help but beg him for one more.

“Do you promise?”

John smiled, awash with a depth of meaning she didn’t entirely understand. “Every day.”


	5. Chapter 5

Lost and adrift, a hushed, soothing voice trickled into her subconscious. “Teyla, can you wake up for me?”

_Madison._

The doctor’s touch penetrated the thick blanket and layers of cotton-threaded sheets keeping her shielded from the chill outside. Of course, there was no actual chill. Atlantis’ environmental controls maintained the air inside the city at an invariably temperate level, but in her debilitated condition, Teyla was always cold.

Despite the bed sheets that had been carefully draped over her in a warm den, she had curled into a ball sometime during the night; a minor feat considering her current state. Deeply mired in the healing process and the waste that the poison had left behind, the smallest movement was an effort for her. The way she found herself shrouded in her snug cocoon, Teyla suspected she had been seeking refuge from something other than the cold.

Her skin crawled.

“C’mon, Teyla,” Madison encouraged at a near whisper.

Teyla forced herself to comply with the request, and cracks of light slowly appeared beneath her eyelids. Her teeth were on edge as her whole body vibrated, every cell seeming to effervesce and bubble into the others, churning and coalescing like ocean waves at the turn of the tide.

With Phase One still in force and Phase Two now in full swing, she had been warned that the tingling feeling she had experienced before was likely to get worse as thousands upon thousands of microscopic robots worked inside her. Tiny impulses skittered over sensitive nerve endings, and as she opened her eyes further, the constant flux was dizzying. Madison was leaning over her, her brilliant blue sapphires peering at her patiently as she continued to gently coax Teyla back into the strange yet familiar world outside of slumber. Groggy and disoriented, Teyla’s gaze wandered toward the one thing she cared about.

Appearing to have finally put his troubling dreams behind him, John still slept. His arms folded over his middle, he slumped in the chair, angled toward her. Around him, early morning lights bounced off the infirmary equipment. Incandescent beams split over the metal's sheen and into the shadows, spraying the room in bright, mesmerizing cascades. A centrifuge, an EKG machine, and a tray of instruments gleamed in polished silver. In her darker moments, she had often wondered how much better those very instruments would look in pieces, but there was a distinct sense of beauty to be found in those objects she had learned to despise. None of them, however, held a candle to the experience of waking up to John, rumpled, sporting a coat of scruff along his jaw in mottled black and silver, and the enchanting tuft of hair tumbling over his forehead.

Her pilot.

She smiled to herself behind heavily lidded eyes, with vivid memories of John’s bedtime story skipping across her mind. He was near enough to touch if she only had the strength to reach.

“You two are close, aren’t you?”

Teyla startled, having almost forgotten Madison was there despite her constant presence and efforts to rouse her. Her late night interlude with John had left her exhausted, far more than she would have expected. The continuous roiling sensation beneath her skin felt like a fever.

She glanced up at Rodney’s niece. Her sunny yet sober expression bore no intent to pry, merely pointing out something that Teyla supposed must be apparent. “Yes, we are close.”

“From everything Uncle Mer’s told me, you’d have to be.”

A tiny smile escaped her lips. “We have … been through a lot together.”

“I can imagine.” Madison observed John thoughtfully. “Still, to do what he did … that’s something special.”

Teyla blinked slowly and turned away. John was not only special, he was extraordinary.

Madison patted her arm one last time and spoke softly. “I’ll tell you what. If he’s going to be spending his nights here, I’m sure we can dig up something more comfortable for him to sleep on.”

Teyla spared her a tired glance before returning it to John, hopeful that he would want to stay. She wasn’t sure she was prepared to handle waking in this alien world without him. She wasn’t sure she wanted to. “I am sure he would appreciate that.”

“It’s the least I can do.”

Tending to her duties, Madison proceeded to help her lay back and uncoil her legs. It was time once again to check her vital signs and it always began the same way, no matter which doctor was attending to her or what year it was.

“How are you feeling?”

“I am fine,” Teyla said without thinking, asked a thousand times with too little change in the answer.

Madison, however, took her lackluster response with good humor. “The most commonly told lie in the universe, but the infirmary just wouldn’t be the same without it.”

As Madison had explained, Phase Two of her treatment promised to be steady and slow. Elizabeth's experience with nanite healing had been nearly instantaneous, but Teyla’s circumstances were different. Her nanites were not Replicator in origin; completely lacking the aggression programmed into them by the Ancients and incapable of self-duplication, and instead of merely swapping the dead and damaged cells in her body for additional nanites, they were manufacturing new, healthy cells. A time-consuming process by all accounts and, at times, quite discouraging.

“How’s the tingling?”

“Worse, as you predicted.”

“Just let me know if you start feeling nauseated. I can remotely adjust the nanites’ production rates to make you more comfortable.”

Teyla nodded, knowing she would never ask for such a measure. Slowing the nanites would only prolong the healing process, keeping her bedridden and weak. An intolerable state, for life was not kind to the weak.

“Give it time, Teyla. It’ll lessen as you heal.”

“I understand.”

Teyla knew the list of basic tests by rote, having already submitted to each one of them many times since she’d regained consciousness: pulse, blood pressure, respiration, temperature, and neural reactivity. She supposed they had to make certain that Phase One was holding. If for some reason it failed before Phase Two was complete and her internal organs were healed, she might very well die after all. In addition, given the hasty circumstances surrounding the nanites’ insertion, they had also been vigilant about checking the injection site for signs of infection.

One by one, Madison efficiently ran through all the tests while Lucia—a raven-haired nurse with an oval face and squeaky shoes—presented Teyla with her morning meal in the form of an IV bag and a cup of ice chips, and proceeded to hang it up along with the rest. They both worked with as little invasion to her personal space as possible, nevertheless Teyla couldn’t help but feel the intrusion. She turned away, weary of being an object to be fussed over.

Unrestrained fatigue pressed down on her.

She was weary of being weary.

If only she could see the sun. On reflection, Teyla realized it had been far too long since she had done even that. If only she were able to go for a walk, to set her feet to the ground and stand beneath the sky, encompassed in its great blue majesty with fat, white clouds sailing overhead. Perhaps then she would find that she still had some place in this world. She would be able to get to know her son again without all the intrusive trappings of illness unnerving him, to hear about his life and learn what made him happiest. She so badly wanted to be able to finish the conversation she and John had barely begun last night …

Unaware she had drifted off, her eyes snapped open when Madison leaned over her again. “If you’ll excuse me for one second, Teyla.” The doctor carefully reached under the loose v-neck collar of her scrubs, and pressed her third and fourth fingers down on each of the trio of transparent sensor pads taped to Teyla’s chest, directly over her heart. “How’s the soreness? Any better?”

Teyla slowly nodded.

“Good.”

“Everything okay?” a low, raspy voice asked. Teyla rolled her head to the right side of the bed where John was overseeing the small matter with bleary eyes and cool concern.

“Just a little bit loose, that’s all,” Madison assured him, not appearing even remotely surprised that he was awake.

How long had she slept this time? It could not have been long.

Madison peered back over to the monitors and seemed very pleased with the results. “There we go. Nice and stable. You know, if we can figure out a reasonable means of mass production without replication, these little guys are going to revolutionize medicine as we know it. Emergencies, terminally ill patients … As long as there’s a cure that can be written into their programming and a decent window for them to work in, the numbers of lives that can be saved are astronomical.”

John huffed. He dropped his legs and straightened his back with a subtle, throaty groan. “Just don’t mention that to Rodney. Next thing you know, he’ll want to add an MD to his CV.”

“Ah, but then Uncle Mer would have to admit that medicine is an actual science,” Madison countered with a smile.

John and Teyla’s eyes met and she wondered if he was thinking the same thing she was. A relaxed, sideways grin broke out on his mouth and she knew he was. All those times Rodney had harassed Carson, mocking him and calling his chosen profession ‘pseudoscience’. Jennifer hadn’t suffered as much, likely due to Rodney’s attraction to her, but even she hadn’t been immune to Dr. McKay’s bouts of scientific superiority.

Reluctantly drawing her eyes away from John, Teyla pivoted her head to face the other side of the bed where Madison had scooped up her chart and was scribbling off a few notes. “Surely, he does not still profess to believe that.”

“‘Fraid so.”

John smirked and settled back in his chair. “So, if McKay still acts like medicine is one step above witchcraft and voodoo dolls, how is it that his favorite niece became a doctor? Probably would've paid to be a fly on the wall at that little family meeting. He probably held a full-on intervention.”

Madison chuckled and glanced up from her paperwork. “Not quite, but he definitely had plenty to say when it came to my career choice. I had a knack for physics, engineering, math and all that, and I went to college figuring I’d settle into one of them, get my degree, and see what it was about Atlantis that he and my mom found so compelling.”

“A legendary city chock full of highly advanced alien goodies wasn't enough by itself?” John teased.

“Well, there was that,” Madison answered with a wink. “But, frankly, after a while I found it all pretty boring.”

John snorted.

“I think the idea that medicine isn’t an exact science is what drew me to it in the beginning. Things aren’t neat and the situation doesn’t always fit in a nice little mathematical box. Every person to walk through those doors is completely unique. One-of-a-kind. The puzzles are more challenging and I like the mess that the human factor brings to the table,” she said with a passion Teyla couldn’t help but admire and, perhaps, envy. “As a doctor, I get the chance to save a life. Or to bring one into the world. Or to clean up a scraped knee and make a little kid’s day just a bit better. What else could possibly compete with that?”

“I am sure Rodney was glad to see you here in Atlantis in any capacity. He was never one to say so, but family means a great deal to him,” Teyla said quietly, looking up again.

“I know,” Madison said. “And it turned out to be pretty handy when Uncle Mer needed a medical doctor with a decent grasp of engineering and programming to collaborate with on his pet project.”

Teyla looked over at John and they exchanged a meaningful glance. “I am sure Rodney was grateful for the help.”

“If he keeps on making wisecracks, we could always smack him around a little bit,” John offered. Then his face scrunched up in chagrin as though he’d just remembered that Rodney was quite a bit older than he used to be and cuffing him across the back of the head might not reap the juvenile pleasure it once did. “Well … I could think of something else.”

Madison let out a light, airy laugh. “I appreciate that, General, but I think I’ll be okay. He hasn’t actually mentioned it much since I took his side on the tofu issue.”

John grinned, but it seemed to fall a little flat. There was no hint of discomfort in his body language, but she knew it was there. John had been such a stalwart support for her and seemed to take everything in his stride, it was easy to forget he was going through a transition too.

Madison tucked her chart under her arm and laid a caring hand on Teyla’s arm. “You’re looking good. I’ll be back to check on you a little later.”

“Good enough for visitors?” John asked.

Madison pursed her lips, studying Teyla carefully. “She really needs to rest. I can’t stress that enough, General, but … I suppose it’d be okay. As long as she’s alright with it, of course. And take it easy, please. Her system isn’t to a point yet where it can take a lot of strain.”

“Right,” he quickly assented.

“Thank you, Dr. Miller,” Teyla murmured.

Madison smiled and Teyla watched as she walked toward what used to be Jennifer’s office. It was strange to think that it wasn’t any longer.

John got to his feet and stretched his limbs. Feeling somewhat guilty for being the reason he had spent the entire night in a chair, Teyla said, “Perhaps you should go to the mess hall and get something to eat.”

He smirked. In his unshaven, disheveled state, he looked more roguish than ever. Careful of her IV lines, he perched on the edge of the bed. His hazel eyes sparkled in the early morning glow. “Eager to get rid of me?”

Woozy with fatigue, she smiled. “I simply do not wish for you to end up occupying the next bed over.”

“It’d probably be less lumpy.”

“But more trouble than it is worth.”

John glanced out at the infirmary, considering the nurses, orderlies, and all the other things he’d run away from on countless occasions. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” He reached out and his hand slipped wonderfully around her own. “I just wish you could come with me.”

“As do I.” She would give anything to do just that, but even she had to admit she wasn’t capable of it at this point. “I am sorry, John.”

His fingers reached up to gently sweep the hair off her face. “Don’t be. Don’t be sorry. It’s gonna take time, that’s all. You just need to be patient.”

“You have never been what I would call a patient man, John Sheppard,” she accused with a small smile. Her eyes heavy with lethargy, she could scarcely keep them open.

“Well, maybe I’ve learned a thing or two. Ten years is a long time.”

The offhand remark hit her unexpectedly, and Teyla blanched. Her head listed to the side, feeling foolish for letting the full decade they had been apart slip her mind once again. Ten years he had waited for her, never having forgotten her. He was a man out of his own time, relearning the world around him and getting reacquainted with those he had left behind. He was having to go through that because of her, and she was too damaged to do him the courtesy of remembering it.

“I know, I … I do not know what is wrong with me.”

A tender smile graced his lips, his chiseled features locked in sweet and engaging certainty. “You’re tired.”

“I am,” she admitted, speaking beyond merely this moment. In all the months she had been ill, she had never once said that out loud. Not to anyone. She had been ravaged by an insidious poison, endured physical pain beyond imagination, had been confined to a sickbed, and suffered the piteous glances that inevitably followed when her caretakers had seen what illness had done to her. Even though the physical ailments keeping her here would soon be a memory, Teyla would know until the end of her days the feeling of being slowly eaten from the inside out, of being left a ghost in her own life.

It was all just … too much.

“I am so tired, John,” she said quietly.

“I know.”

He didn’t leave. Neither of them spoke and there was no expectation that they should. It was one of the things Teyla found most remarkable about their friendship. It was not demanding or awkward. They knew how to find rest in the silences, taking what comfort they needed from the other solely from their presence and knowing they were welcomed to do so. They stayed together, lapsed in companionable silence, his hand continuing to lightly stroke her hair as she stared absently ahead, only partially aware, electric sensations rippling through her body in fluid streams.

Soon enough, nestled in the soft cushion of her pillow and under John’s watchful eye, Teyla sank peacefully into darkness.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some minor backstory points borrowed from Jo Graham's Legacy Series. And my continued gratitude to nacimynom for her stellar work as beta for this story.

“Well, did he say anything?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, Rodney.”

“Because, if you remember, Ronon was always quite the chatterbox.”

Teyla stirred at the familiar cadence of John and Rodney bickering. Beneath the blankets, her arms were wrapped around her torso in a protective curl while charged impulses darted within her body. Feeling slightly dizzy, she half-expected to see John in his black BDU’s and Rodney in his uniform arguing over a table in the mess hall. Then, of course, she remembered where she was and that those days had been left far behind.

“It was just a question, McKay. Maybe a ‘say hi for me’ or … a really deep grunt or …”

“What do you want me to say, Sheppard? I told him you and Teyla were out of stasis, and that Teyla was alive. It took all of thirty seconds and he cut the signal. Allow me to be the first to tell you that living with his own people for the past twenty years has done wonders for Ronon’s people skills.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” John mumbled under his breath. There was an elongated pause before he spoke again and when he finally did, his voice was tinged with surprise and disappointment. “Look, I wasn’t expecting a big welcome back speech or anything like that, just … I don’t know. Something.”

“I’m sorry, okay?” Rodney said, sincerely. “I wish there was more.”

“No, it’s fine. You did good, Rodney.”

Teyla moved her arms, feeling somewhat shaky with the effort, and lifted her head. She closed her eyes again momentarily as her stomach turned, the world vacillating and distorted around her. When the queasy feeling finally abated, she opened her eyes to see her environment with a much clearer view.

John and Rodney stood against the nearby wall. Having forsworn his uniform long ago, Rodney was dressed in an oversized wool sweater. His frame had rounded some over the years, Teyla noticed, and not exclusively in his midsection. His back and shoulders bridged naturally to form a smooth yet pronounced curve, the result of years spent bending over a desk. She was also glad to see that John had taken advantage of the time she spent resting to shower and change.

She took in the thin frown on John’s face as he shifted his weight uncomfortably. Softly, she called out to him. “John? What is it? What is going on?”

“Hey,” he said. The dark cloud hovering over his troubled countenance lifted significantly in realizing she was awake. Breaking his stance, he settled against the railing of the bed and hunched over to get a little closer. “How are you feeling? Better?”

She took a drawn out breath and answered honestly, “A little.” The incessant prickling below her skin hadn’t improved at all, but the extra sleep had served her well enough. “Thank you, John.”

He shook his head almost imperceptibly, as if to say he had done nothing. He reached over to give her temple an affectionate brush with his finger, a move reminiscent of the comforting sensation that had finally lulled her to sleep. “As long as you’re okay.”

Rodney shuffled up behind him, tugging at his sweater and casting a scrutinizing glance at John’s hand. He gave him an odd sort of smirk; satisfied yet smug, as though he was a co-conspirator in keeping some great secret.

“Rodney,” she greeted him with a smile. “It is good to see you again. Have you been here long?”

“Awhile.”

She sighed at herself in subdued dismay. “I have kept you waiting.”

“Don’t think anything of it, Teyla,” John insisted.

A forlorn look settled on her face before she was able to banish it completely. She hastily schooled her features into a visage of polite exchange, then addressed Rodney again. “I am sorry our last visit was cut so short.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” her friend said with a dismissive wave of the hand, then quickly withdrew the comment. Perhaps he was afraid she would take offense, Teyla thought. He needn’t have bothered. Rodney may have been relatively abrasive in his means, but it was no real measure to how much he cared. “I mean, you nearly died. It must’ve been … If anyone would know what you’ve had to deal with … well, it wouldn’t be me because I’ve obviously never been put into stasis and then pulled out only to have my heart stop. But I _do_ know quite a bit about …”

John dealt him a gentle nudge in the ribs. “Less is more, Rodney.”

The flustered physicist stowed his hands in his pockets like he could tuck his nerves away along with them. “Getting better is what’s important, right?” he concluded simply.

“Indeed,” she answered, watching the whole exchange with a petite grin. It was nice to see that some things had never changed.

“I heard you had kind of a bad morning,” Rodney said with a concerned grimace.

“That’s not what I said,” John grumbled.

“Well, that’s how it sounded.”

John shot him a disapproving glare and turned to address Teyla. “I figured Rodney would show up sooner or later anyway, but since Madison said you were clear for visitors, I went ahead and invited him down. I’m starting to think I made a horrible mistake.”

Rodney made a face that smacked of false amusement. Teyla only smiled. “And Torren?” she asked hopefully.

“Coalition Council,” John explained. “They’re in the middle of a session and aren’t expected to get out for a few more hours, but he said he’d be by as soon as he could.”

Teyla nodded in understanding. Her son was a grown man with responsibilities. She could not allow herself to forget that. She only hoped that was the real reason for his absence. Teyla couldn’t imagine what it must be like for him to have his mother thought to be, by any reasonable definition, dead for almost his entire life only to have her return. It would be akin to her own mother, a person she barely remembered, walking through the Stargate one day and asking to resume her place in her life.

Of course, Tegan had willfully abdicated her responsibilities as her mother. Teyla had been given no choice. She hoped Torren would see that. She hoped he could forgive her.

With a deep exhale, Teyla returned to the topic that had woken her in the first place. She was craving familiarity and the big Satedan was the one missing piece in her former team. So much about this time felt wrong to her, but it was made that much worse without him there. “What was it you were saying about Ronon?”

“Ah,” Rodney said, taking it upon himself to respond. “I was just explaining to Rip van Winkle here that Ronon is—shall we say—a man of few words, and at no point in my extensive and lauded career have I ever picked up the ability to read minds.”

“But you were able to reach him?” she asked.

“Well, yes. But …”

Heavy footfalls and raised voices echoed in from the hallway, distracting her. John turned as well. From her prone position Teyla couldn’t see much, but the atmosphere outside had abruptly changed, ripe with an unbridled energy. “John?”

He glanced down at her and shook his head. He didn’t know what was going on any more than she did.

“Commander? Commander, wait just a moment! You didn’t clear proper security channels!” a male voice demanded and received no response. Infirmary personnel moved aside as grains of sand swept up in the breeze, breaking for a much more powerful force.

“Ronon!” Rodney exclaimed in astonishment.

“Get out of my way, McKay,” he growled.

Rodney moved aside with haste and John followed suit, aware of his intended target. As they parted, Teyla finally laid eyes on him—Ronon Dex, former runner. Stalking through the infirmary with the proud mane of lion streaked gray and clad in a thick cloak covering a combination of hard-boiled leather and armor decorated with the insignia indicative of high office, she saw a man who would strike fear in the cold hearts of Wraith the galaxy over; he who was her brother in every way but blood.

The scar he bore through his eyebrow had gained a grisly companion; a deep but aged mark etched into his lower cheek that bespoke his violent, war torn past. No doubt he had many more that couldn’t currently be seen, collected over years of battling the Wraith both by her side and long after, but a fire burned within him that reached down to the core of his very being. Ronon had never been beaten or broken.

When she had befriended him in the beginning, Teyla had often been struck with the impression that Ronon was either destined to die young or the wild man they had stumbled across would outlive them all. She was delighted to see it was the latter.

With Rodney and John just behind, he came to a halt at her bedside and stood looming over her. The hard expression on his face flickered, then steeled itself again. John had not told her much of the time soon after she had entered stasis, but she knew Ronon had had a difficult time accepting her loss. Her unexpected return must have been equally difficult; stirring old memories and making fresh the pain of her absence.

“Teyla?” he asked in his stony voice.

She reached for his hand. “Ronon.”

She saw him considering her poor condition and the tapestry of wires and monitors she was hooked up to with that iron scowl. “You okay?”

“Yes, of course, she is,” Rodney broke in, perturbed. “Do you think I would have revived her in the first place if I wasn’t a hundred percent certain this would work?”

Ronon’s head swiveled around to glare at him which brought about a prompt end to Rodney’s protest.

“I will be,” Teyla answered for herself when he came to face her again.

The Commander pursed his bearded lower lip and his huge hand turned under hers. Knuckles and fingers moved hesitantly to surround hers. Silence was thick in the air, then Ronon was surrounding her. His great arms stretched around her and swept her up in a fierce embrace.

“Careful,” John spoke in warning, but Ronon seemed to ignore him. He was taking all due diligence to make certain she was unhurt. Teyla never even felt a tug at her arm from the IV. The only thing she fought was the dizzying lurch deep in her abdomen as the world spun. Secure in his powerful arms, with one hooking her legs and the other protectively surrounding her back, she rested her head against his shoulder and waited until the feeling passed.

Teyla peered up at Ronon’s battle-hardened face, only to find him choked with emotion. “What took you so long?” he asked in a raspy whisper.

A wide, tearful smile exploded onto her face. She reached up to touch his cheek. “I might ask the same of you, my friend.”

Ronon held her tight, and Teyla hugged him back with as much fervor as she could muster. Her Satedan brother had been returned to her and she to him.

It was only when the two finally broke apart that Teyla saw that they had drawn a crowd. Lucia and a junior nurse, Megan, had joined John and Rodney, along with a security officer Teyla presumed was the man that had followed him here from the Gate Room. The two nurses appeared moderately anxious, and the security officer looked as though he were seriously weighing whether to enforce protocol or if it would be wiser to bend the rules. Madison was watching, arms folded, with a self-assured yet still cautious gaze from her office door.

John’s low commanding tone reached over Ronon’s shoulder. “Ronon, you need to put her down now.” John knew as well as Teyla that Ronon would never intentionally harm her, but she understood why he would worry about her condition remaining stable.

There was a brief flash of something in the Satedan’s dark eyes, an intensity in his countenance before he released her back onto her bed, much to the relief of the nurses on duty. That relief, however, was short-lived.

Madison was walking over, and Lucia and Megan were busily tucking her back in when Ronon turned on John with catlike grace and an arresting fury. His iron fist landed with a dense crack.

Teyla was stunned. “Ronon!”

A short pace from her, keeping himself out of the line of fire, Rodney’s face pulled into a sympathetic wince, but he didn’t seem all that shocked at the turn of events.

“Whoa! Knock it off!” Madison yelled as the S.O. leaped into action, attempting to subdue the angry warrior. The rangy man fruitlessly clung to one arm while Ronon’s sole attention focused on John.

John groaned and blinked hard, no doubt seeing stars. “What was _that_ for?”

“For not saying goodbye,” Ronon snarled.

“Ugh,” he grunted. “You couldn’t have filed a written complaint?”

Ronon glared back at him. He shook off the outclassed S.O. easily, freeing his arm, but he didn’t move against John again. Long pent-up anger vented from him with every breath.

“Okay, fine. I guess I deserved that.” While Teyla looked on in utter bewilderment, John gingerly tested his jaw. It didn’t appear Ronon had truly injured him, though from the red welt that was already visible, he was certain to be sore for a while.

Madison had made her way to Teyla’s bedside sometime during the melee and hovered protectively over her. As she eyed the exchange, one of her hands inched toward her commlink. Teyla grasped at her wrist. The level of electricity within her was rising rapidly, but she couldn’t bear to see John or Ronon hauled away by additional security. “Don’t. Please.”

Madison looked down at her appraisingly. For once Teyla didn’t try to hide the distress in her face. Perhaps appealing to the doctor’s empathetic nature would persuade her to hold off any decision that would remove her friends from her. Of course, that tactic might also backfire if Madison felt that their presence was doing her more harm than good.

“Please,” she said again.

Madison’s crystal blue orbs regarded her carefully, then looked up. John and Ronon were engaged in a wrestling match of intense looks, questioning frowns, and caged emotion, but it seemed that the initial blow would be the only blow. John didn’t search for retribution and Ronon seemed to have lost his taste for the fight. Rodney merely looked on the two of them, shaking his head.

“Is that it?” John verbally pushed. “You got it out of your system or do you want to kick my ass some more?”

Ronon didn’t answer.

John’s expression was blank yet concealed a bitter thread of sadness. “I should’ve told you, okay? I should’ve told you what I was planning. Maybe that’s sixteen years too late, but … I should have. I just couldn’t … I couldn’t say goodbye to anyone else. I thought you might understand that.”

Tears broke free and fell in tiny rivulets along Teyla’s cheeks. Ronon stood stiff, unmoving.

“General, is everything alright?” Madison finally asked.

John peered in her direction, holding his glance long enough for he and Teyla to meet eyes. Wiping her tears away, she could read the inquiry in his expression, and ignoring the sensations harshly needling her everywhere, she nodded. He finally turned back to Ronon. “Yeah, it’s okay, I ...” John’s hazel eyes flickered uncertainly at his best friend as he rubbed his hand along his jaw. “We _are_ okay, aren’t we?”

Ronon scowled. “Don’t do that again.”

“I won't.”

Just as abruptly as he’d struck John, Ronon threw his arms around him. Teyla thought she saw a smile creep up on John’s face as he returned the embrace.

“It’s good to see you too, buddy,” he said quietly, patting him on the back.

For the next minutes, there was a flurry of hands working over Teyla; staff members who, sensing that the storm had passed, devoted themselves to caring for her and returning her properly to bed while Teyla concerned herself with her former teammates.

She was relieved at their apparent reconciliation. The bond John and Ronon had forged as brothers-in-arms seemed to have rendered any further discussion on the matter pointless. But she was equally troubled that the incident had played out at all. What had happened after she went into stasis? There was so much about the past she didn’t know, events she had not been a part of whose consequences were spilling into the present with a raging torrent.

John had filled her in on a lot, but obviously not everything. Not the things closest to his heart, the ones he was least proud of and the ones that hurt the most.

“This isn’t exactly what I meant when I said take it easy,” Madison chided him after peace had begun to settle again.

“Hey, this wasn’t exactly _my_ idea,” John defended himself, nursing what was sure to become an angry bruise.

Madison cast a reproachful stare at Ronon. He raised his brow in a sly, endearing arch and all Madison could do was sigh. Clearly, she and Ronon weren’t strangers to one another. Teyla supposed they would have met at the same time she had met John: when Jeannie was taken captive on Earth. And even if his home was on Sateda now, surely Ronon would have spent time in the city over the years visiting with Rodney and Katie. Rodney’s niece was likely to have been, at times, included. Perhaps he and Madison were friends?

Madison pursed her lips and waved to both of them. “Alright, General, let’s get you under a scanner and take a look at the damage.”

“Thanks a lot, Chewie,” John groused.

“Ronon, let’s get some ice on that hand,” the doctor ordered as she began to push the two men along by the arms.

“It’s fine,” the Satedan grumbled through his teeth.

Teyla wasn’t certain what Madison said next, but it sounded suspiciously like, “Don’t think I won’t call your wife.” Whatever it was, it was enough to earn her an annoyed huff, yet Ronon straightened and followed her without further complaint. The quick turnabout said a lot about the kind of woman her friend had eventually chosen to make his bond with.

“She makes a pretty good Cyronian barbecue, but you wouldn’t want to meet her in a dark alley,” Rodney said, then answered the question hanging in the air. “Lysa, Ronon’s wife.”

He sat down in John’s now empty chair next to the bed and let out an appreciative moan, very pleased to be off his feet. “She came to Atlantis with an attachment of the new Satedan Guard during the war. The Wraith had us spread too thin, reinforcements from Earth were still a few days out, and we needed people or it was bye bye Pegasus. When Lorne came back telling us he’d made some new friends, he wasn’t kidding. The Satedans held M77-903 and somewhere in the middle of all that Ronon met up with Lysa.”

Teyla looked back in the direction John and Ronon had gone, her thoughts lingering elsewhere. With all she didn’t yet know. “Tell me more,” she said.

“Well, Ronon must’ve had some MRE’s stashed in his quarters or something because it was three or four days before those two came up for air.”

Surprised, Teyla released a light giggle. “That is not precisely what I meant, Rodney.”

His wrinkled cheeks turned a new shade of pink as he smiled sheepishly. “Right. Sorry.”

The two shared a moment of quiet laughter. Then, when the levity passed, Rodney seemed to understand what it was she wanted to know and his smile faded. “Listen, Teyla, don’t worry about all this. The way Sheppard left things … it was bound to happen. He did what he could, but he still left quite a mess in his wake. The SGC’s been trying to arrange a sit down with him for the last few days, and then there’s his brother … Ronon was only the tip of the iceberg.”

“What do you mean?”

Rodney answered with a frown. “Well, you know how Sheppard is. Once he makes up his mind, there’s no arguing.”

Teyla nodded.

“I helped him. I tried to talk him out of it, but I helped him. He knew … we _both_ knew that it was probably going to be a one-way trip,” he said with bald shame in his voice. “You have to understand, Teyla, at that time …”

The prevailing belief was that there was no hope she would ever be cured, Teyla surmised when Rodney could not speak it aloud. She had been essentially been left for dead. Teyla had understood that the moment she stepped into the stasis pod. She bore no ill will to her friends for seeing the truth as it had stood at the time. She did not wish for Rodney to feel guilty for it now, especially after all he had done to turn that reality on its ear. “You do not have to explain to me, Rodney. I understand. I do.”

The sad scientist seemed to accept her assurance for the time being. “Don’t tell him this, but Sheppard going into stasis with you was probably the single biggest step toward helping you we ever got. Once he was trapped in there and the powers that be realized that they couldn’t get him out without killing you,” he gulped, “they started considering new alternatives to treating you. The nanites were an idea I had in the beginning, but they were nowhere near ready and I could never get approval to even begin testing because everybody was so scared of bringing back the Replicators. But I guess the idea of leaving a decorated general to die in stasis for no reason was too much for the bosses to swallow, and it only got easier after the Stargate program went public. Can you imagine the PR nightmare if the press had ever gotten wind of it? 'Intergalactic War Hero and Member of Prominent, Freakishly Wealthy Family Left to Die by Unfeeling Bureaucrats. Film at eleven.'”

“John forced their hand.”

Rodney nodded. “I used to wonder if he did it on purpose. If he somehow knew that by upping the stakes they'd _have_ to do something.” After a beat of oppressive silence, Rodney cleared his throat. “Anyway, um … after he was … all locked up, it fell in my lap to play delivery boy and break the news to everybody that he wasn’t coming back. Sheppard had filled out his resignation papers from the Air Force, written letters to Carter, Ronon, Carson, and his brother. Carson …” Rodney paused. “Well, Carson was hard. Ronon was harder. I thought I had gotten off easy with David Sheppard because I didn’t have to do it in person, but once word of the Stargate program got out, I thought he had a right to know what really happened.”

“That was very brave of you, Rodney.”

“Not really,” he muttered, then stopped entirely. In this Teyla chose not to press him. Whatever occurred between Rodney and John’s brother, it was not something Rodney wished to relate. Perhaps he never would.

Teyla stared up at the ceiling, giving Rodney time and trying to process everything she’d heard. As with so much she’d already learned of those missing years, every bit of information she gained seemed only to draw out more questions. “Rodney, what happened after I was placed in stasis? What really happened?”

The lump in his throat bobbed up and down. “What did Sheppard tell you?”

“Only that it was difficult. I think John is … reluctant … to talk about it.”

“Yeah, I can imagine.” Rodney shifted uncomfortably in his seat and glanced around the room as if he were wishing he were still spry enough to make a dash for the exit. “I don’t know, Teyla. Shouldn’t you be resting or something?”

“Rodney, for the next several days I will be doing little else but resting. I would like … I need to know.”

“Maybe you should wait for Sheppard or something.”

“Rodney!” She needed to fill in the missing pieces and she couldn’t wait until the next blow-up to understand what had occurred between those members of her adopted family when she wasn’t there for them.

Appearing vaguely cowed by her outburst, Rodney lowered his head and exhaled. “I can’t really speak to what happened _right_ after. For the others, anyway. I-I wasn’t really around all that much.” His features contorted in aching remembrance of his past grief. “By the time I was in any shape to … well, to do anything really, Ronon had broken his hand in a couple of places. Jennifer told me at first there had been an accident in the gym, but I didn’t buy it. I mean, when we used to hear the words ‘gym accident’, Ronon wasn’t usually the one needing medical attention. She finally told me they were stress fractures. That he’d been hitting the equipment so hard, his bones just … couldn't take it.”

Sorrowful, Teyla closed her eyes in deference to the suffering she had unintentionally caused. To be loved to such an extent might have been a blessing had she not known that those same feelings would have felt like a curse to those that mattered most to her.

“Kanaan stayed in Atlantis for a few months afterward. I think a part of him still hoped a cure would pop up and we could bring you back to be with your son. He brought Torren to see you every so often, but … after awhile he couldn’t do it anymore. It seemed cruel.”

“Torren was raised on New Athos,” Teyla said to herself, and Rodney indicated she was right. Naturally, Kanaan would have taken him back to live with their people. Without her presence in Atlantis, there would have been little to keep them there. Torren would have had a wonderful and full upbringing alongside the rest of the Athosians. However, for the first time, she was grateful that she'd been unaware of it. Not only had Torren been taken from her, but the thought of her young son reaching out for his mother with no response …

Teyla let out a shaky breath. That was one memory she was happy not to bear.

“And John?” she finally asked.

“Sheppard,” he said. “Well, John was …”

Rodney unexpectedly got up and meandered in an oblong circle along the infirmary floor. Teyla waited as he paced, deep in thought, clearly racking his formidable brain for the right thing to say. His shoulders bent, his posture stooped, and wearing a pensive frown, he eventually said, “Sheppard never did really recover. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so lost before. And I don’t mean ‘six-years-old, lost in the Canadian Museum of Civilization without a map’ kind of lost, ‘cause that’s actually really scary …

Rodney bit his lip, perhaps remembering John’s earlier advice of less is more. “The thing is, I don’t think he realized how lost he actually was. He seemed fine. He didn't really want to hang out as much, but I don’t think anyone who didn’t know him would’ve noticed. I doubt I would’ve noticed if Jennifer hadn’t asked me about it. But the first time I found him in the Stasis Room, I knew. I knew he wasn’t the same. And it never got better.”

Unexpectedly, a smile crossed his lips. Wistful and far away, but it was definitely a smile. It was very similar to the one he wore when John had been stroking her hair earlier; genuine and knowing, in a way. “But you're back now. And he seems … Well, he's better. You should know that Sheppard never gave up on you. He held on, even when we thought he shouldn’t.”

“John was always quite stubborn.”

“Well, there’s stubborn and there’s _stubborn_ ,” Rodney said. “When the topic had anything to do with you, I’ve had more productive conversations with a wall.”

Teyla couldn’t help but smile too, soft and knowing. John’s secret was not as secret as Rodney might have thought. “Strange, is it not?”

He looked directly at her, and slowly, a conspiratorial grin grew on his lips. “Really strange.”


	7. Chapter 7

John and Ronon returned from Madison’s exasperated ministrations armed with an ice pack and an inappropriately triumphant smirk, respectively. After a solemn promise to the nurses that there would be no more unnecessary excitement, Ronon and John joined Rodney around Teyla’s bed; Ronon on her left, reclining with his legs slung on top of the mattress alongside hers with Rodney across from him on her right, and John sitting closely at her head. Soon it was as though the four teammates had never parted.

With the head of the bed raised to a comfortable level and propped up by a few strategically placed pillows, Teyla enjoyed the laughter that came along with Rodney’s acerbic wit, Ronon’s unique brand of devil-may-care charm, and John, who bridged the gap between the two with deceptive ease. If only for a little while, having the four of them together again was enough to make her current state seem like only a bad dream.

Finding it peaceful to listen to the three men joke and tease one another, she dozed off. When she opened her eyes, she remained surrounded by the faces of those she loved. They were still heavily involved in conversation, and John’s welcome fingers surreptitiously caressed her palm as he casually leaned in close to the bed.

“You did not,” John said, gaping at Ronon.

“Oh, he did. I thought the Genii councilor was going to wet himself,” Rodney vouched with an animation his aged countenance didn’t appear to have expressed in years.

“Was this Cryos?” John asked.

Rodney shook his head. “Graysin. He was about the third one in the post-Ladon and Ambrus era, but before Killeen.”

John’s expression lit with comprehension while Teyla was dismayed at the number of men that had represented the Genii over the years. “So many? The leaders of the Genii were generally seated for life.”

“Evidently, our pal, Ladon, set quite a precedent when he turned on Cowan,” John said as Rodney nodded along.

“After that, every weaselly sycophant in the bunch was out for a power grab before long. Some lasted longer than others.” Rodney chuckled, then continued. “You should’ve seen the look on Woolsey’s face.”

Ronon said gruffly, “I told them I wasn’t the guy for the job. Sitting around talking about stuff I don’t care about with people I don’t like … I’m no politician.”

“You certainly proved it. Five minutes with you sitting on the Council and there was gunplay,” Rodney exclaimed. He turned back to John. “Needless to say, the next day the Coalition demanded a new rep from Sateda and Ronon was back to training his commando squad.”

As Teyla had since learned, what Rodney so casually referred to as Ronon’s ‘commando squad’ was in fact a specialized team of elite soldiers akin to John’s Special Forces that formed the spearhead of the new Satedan military. In deference to Ronon’s unqualified skill, his experiences as a runner and subsequent exploits in Atlantis battling the Wraith, he had been welcomed among the survivors of his people with open arms and given direct command over their very best. Under his watch, Sateda and her people were not only recovering, but thriving, and rapidly re-emerging as one of the true powers in Pegasus.

John’s eyes narrowed, bright with fun and suspicion. “Sneaky, Ronon. Very sneaky.”

Ronon grinned in smug satisfaction.

John leaned back, relaxed in his chair, and laced his hands behind his head. “Well, I’ll bet Lysa was relieved to get you back so fast. I can’t imagine she was thrilled at the idea of you leaving her with the kids for weeks at a time. She was pregnant with … what? Number three when I left?”

Rodney let out an emphatic, “Pfft.”

“Old news?”

Ronon sat back as well, lazily proud. “Had three more after that.”

John’s eyebrows shot upward. “You’ve been busy then.”

“Ronon’s been trying to repopulate Sateda all by himself,” Rodney said with a condescending smirk.

John’s eyes flickered in Teyla’s direction. She returned his glance with empathy as he quickly looked away again. It was disconcerting to learn that so many milestones had passed them by while they slept, a feeling that they both shared.

But rather than give voice to their regrets, Teyla offered Ronon her heartfelt congratulations while John took a playful dig at Rodney’s biting comment. “Well, Rodney, Ronon’s been busy raising six kids and rebuilding a civilization. What have you got to show for yourself?”

“You mean other than being the foremost expert on Ancient technology alive, becoming the most celebrated scientist in my field, and completely revolutionizing emergency medicine as we know it?” he said, gesturing in Teyla’s direction.

“Yeah. Other than that,” John said with a deadpan expression.

“Are you kidding me?!”

Expertly baited, Rodney’s indignation sparked a diatribe that flowed like a fountain, and John began to chuckle quietly at his friend’s expense. He cast another subtle peek at Teyla, and this time she could only smile.

“ … one ready-made body repair kit, ready for business, tucked away in a closet somewhere? Plus, I didn’t think Teyla would really go for the idea of being shut down for repairs. And do you have any idea how hard it is to get teeny tiny computers to behave like organic matter? _That_ is a problem of Ancient proportions!” Rodney folded his arms and mumbled, “Sixteen years of work and all I get is criticism. Well, let me tell you, pal—I may have spoiled you over the years with my almost godlike ability for pulling your butt from the fire at two minutes' notice, but true miracles take time.”

Wearing a bemused smile, John nudged Rodney’s knee with his foot. “Relax, McKay. You’ve done yourself proud.”

Rodney frowned, acting more annoyed than he truly was, Teyla suspected. “Well, somebody had to save your ass, I guess. And Conan was busy making lots of little barbarians, so …”

There was a beat of silence in which the four of them shared a look and then they all burst out in a fit of laughter.

Teyla dabbed at the corners of her eyes, wet from the unexpected mirth, when a handsome young man cautiously approached them. Torren looked quite distinguished in his formal Athosian attire, a far cry from the exuberant toddler who used to take great pleasure in playing in the mud and squishing leftover food in his pockets. _Sav’n it for latew_ , he would say in a very reasonable, adult tone—Teyla smiled at the memory.

“May I enter?” he asked as the laughter began to trail off and the others noted his entrance.

“Yes, of course,” Teyla said, her stomach quivering. She was thrilled Torren had come, but she was very uncertain of how to be around him, of what he would expect and what he would accept.

John lightly squeezed her hand and got to his feet. “Glad to see you could come down, TJ.” He gave him a firm handshake and a fond pat on the shoulder.

“Of course.” Torren turned his eyes on the group, then back to John. “I received a message there had been some trouble. Was I misinformed?”

A sheepish grin formed on John’s face. He lifted his hand to massage his tender and now brightly colored jawline. “Not entirely.”

Torren granted him a small smile in understanding. Then, he turned. His expression lost its easiness and grew much more austere. Standing tall, he addressed Ronon. “I might have known it was you. Commander.” He tipped his head in a stiff nod.

“Councilor.” Ronon acknowledged him with only mild regard. Teyla observed them closely, wary of the sudden change in demeanor. Without quitting his relaxed posture, Ronon’s eyes scanned Torren up and down. “You’re getting soft.”

One side of Torren’s mouth ticked upward at his criticism. “There are those that can attest otherwise.”

“Defeating an inferior opponent only brings honor to fools and the weak.” Ronon straightened his posture slightly and stared at him in an assessing manner. “We both know that diplomacy isn’t a game for fools, so I guess that just leaves …”

Torren tilted his head to the side. “Would you care to test that assertion?”

“Anytime, kid.” Ronon rose and closed menacingly on her son.

In the face of the bigger man, Torren didn’t flinch. “In that case I hope you have brought someone to help you up off the floor, old man.”

Then, just as suddenly as the confrontation had begun, the two men laughed and reached for one another, gripping each other tightly at the shoulder. “When you’re ready for a challenge, the Spear will be waiting,” Ronon said through his bearded grin.

“The Spear would be a challenge for the whole of Pegasus. I am but a humble soldier,” Torren said.

“Too humble. I could use a thousand of you.”

Torren lowered his head in respect. “A thousand of me still could not hope to match what you have done, Uncle.”

Ronon grunted dismissively and released him.

Tension gradually fled Teyla’s body; fortunate, because she was still treading a fine line between comfort and discomfort, and she didn’t think the infirmary staff would tolerate any further trouble.

From his seat Rodney asked peevishly, “Are you two done beating your chests now?”

“We are simply saying hello, Uncle Rodney,” said Torren.

“In some civilized societies, they say ‘hello’ by actually saying ‘hello’.”

Torren clasped Rodney’s shoulder. “Hello, Uncle.”

Rodney peered up at him. “Hello, Torren. See how easy that was?”

Torren beamed. The white of his teeth flashed against the pink flesh of his lips and caramel skin, exuding natural charisma. He was the very picture of his grandfather. The elder Torren was a man of strength, fairness, and good humor, and Teyla was struck with the impression that her father would have been very proud to have known his grandson. Torren caught her gaze. She smiled back warmly. He answered with a tentative smile of his own.

It was a peculiar feeling not to know how to behave with one’s own child, but Teyla took it as a positive sign that he had come at all. If he hadn’t wished to speak with her, he wouldn’t have bothered. She was under no delusions that they could simply pick up where they left off, but she welcomed at least the opportunity to get to know him again. If it meant getting reacquainted with her son, she was willing to play whatever part he would have her play.

Supported by pillows, Teyla sat a little taller. “Would you care to stay?”

After a moment, he nodded. “I would.” It took a few more seconds, but Torren seemed to recall something of importance. “Uncle John, Col. Edison asked me to relay a message to you since I was on my way here.”

John stopped him with a perturbed grimace. “Don’t bother. I already know what it is.”

“He requested that you take a moment to speak with him as soon as possible.”

“I’m sure he did,” he muttered.

“What is it, John?” Teyla asked.

“Nothing to worry about. Edison is trying to set up a meet between me and the Air Force, and I told him it could wait. One of the many benefits of being gainfully unemployed,” John said, though his levity quickly lost steam. He took a long contemplative look toward Torren, then rested against the railing at her side. “On the other hand, I should probably take care of it. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind being rid of me for a while.”

“Perhaps for a little while,” she accepted teasingly. She trusted he knew how grateful she was that he was willing to oblige Col. Edison simply to give her some time alone with her son.

“Thought so.” He cupped her cheek, his fingers stretching around her face all the way to the nape of her neck. She reached up to cover his hand with her own. His lustrous hazel eyes captured her attention with a look of deep affection and a palpable reluctance to let go. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

Teyla silently nodded.

John pulled his hand away and turned around. “Alright. Come on, Rodney. I’m sure Katie’s starting to wonder about you.”

Rodney’s brow furrowed, oblivious to John’s true motives as he was hustled to his feet. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I’ve been wondering about you for years.”

“Oh … funny …” the aged physicist said.

“You too, Ronon,” John ordered. “You met Col. Edison yet?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” John slapped his upper arm. “Let’s see if we can’t punch somebody else before the day’s over, huh?”

Ronon curled his eyebrow at the idea, then shrugged. “‘Kay.”

After they had gone, Teyla peered up at her son, who continued to watch the now empty doorway. “They will not harm Col. Edison unless it is well deserved, I assure you.”

Torren turned around and his lips quirked slightly upward. “Col. Edison is normally a cautious man. I am sure he will be just fine.” He rotated John’s former seat, setting it down near the middle of the bed, close to her hip. He pushed aside the flowing back of his deep brown leather coat and sat. “Though he possesses a certain distaste for the Satedans. They tend to be more … unpredictable … than he would care for.”

Teyla smiled. She had known from the first time she and Ronon had ventured out together that he would require a certain level of adaptability. One could never take his actions for granted.

“I see you are well acquainted with them,” she said, thinking of him going toe-to-toe with Ronon.

Torren slightly tilted his head forward, perhaps to consider his next words. The movement tugged on his stiff apparel, pulling on his high collar enough to expose a small portion of his neck. She hadn’t noticed it before, but his close proximity allowed her to see it now. Black detailing exquisitely done by an artist of more than canvas.

“Quite well, apparently.”

Following her eyes, Torren glanced down at himself.

“May I?” she asked.

He consented and scooted in, allowing Teyla to reach without expending a great deal of effort. Her arms ached to hold him, but she sensed he would shrink from her if she pressed him too soon. She would not put him through that. So her fingers only touched Torren’s neck, moving his collar in order to better view the facsimile of the reaper’s scythe and the shield that made up the mark of the Satedan military. First unit Specialist, according to the symbols.

“Considering I am of Athosian descent, it is mostly honorary.”

Teyla lowered her hand. “They would not have gifted you with such a distinction.”

“No. I earned my place,” he said. “As a teenager, I found myself seeking something more of my life than the farms and the hunts, my life always revolving around the turn of the season. I enjoyed going to other worlds to trade and tried to learn as much as I could, but those opportunities were few and ...” Torren lowered his head, smiling to himself as he confessed, “Father often told me I … lacked patience.”

A serene warmth settled within Teyla. How often had her own father told her the very same thing?

“It was decided when I came of age that I would benefit from taking some time away from New Athos to experience more of what the galaxy had to offer. Ronon took me into his home, cared for me, made me a part of his family. And, for three years, he showed me worlds I could only have imagined while he trained me and taught me another way of life. It was the most grueling period of my life, but it has shaped me into what I hope is a better man than I might have been.”

Torren gazed at her, his recollections of the past coloring his expression as they blended with curiosity, sadness, and irresolution. The result of all those mixed emotions was that he seemed hesitant to go on. “Before I left, Father told me he was letting me go because it was what you would have wanted. He said, ‘You cannot hope to cage one who is meant to fly’. That I … was my mother’s son.” He grew quieter as he spoke the last part, but though he could bury his voice, he could not silence the question burning in his eyes.

_Am I? Am I like you?_

Of course, he had questions, Teyla thought, and she would do everything in her power to answer them. She knew how it felt to grow up without a mother, wondering always where she had come from, if her need to see new places and the ever present enticement to explore the stars had been seeded within her at birth, that half of her a mystery she would never fully solve.

“Your father is a good man, Torren,” she said. “He and I may not have been meant for one another, but Kanaan was very important to me.”

Torren seemed gratified to hear it, her relationship to his father no doubt among his many questions. “He said very much the same thing of you. He … spoke of you often as I was growing up. Ronon, Uncle Rodney, and Uncle John as well, when they would visit. I think they hoped it would preserve my memories of you.” His words hung thick in the air.

“It makes me very happy you had the chance to know them,” Teyla managed to say, as her own need for answers turned like screw straight into heart. She looked away from the sight of her own face in masculine form to gather the courage to even ask. Then, she met his gaze once again and forced a smile. “Would you mind telling me … Do you remember me at all? Or living here in Atlantis? You were only three years old. I know I cannot expect there to be much, but … ” Fear that he would tell her that he remembered nothing of her smothered her ability to speak.

Torren pursed his lips, his forehead creasing in careful deliberation. It seemed a shame to wrinkle such a handsome brow, but this was a question _she_ needed an answer to. “I remember some things,” he ultimately said. “I, um … I remember playing with your watch. Twisting it around on your wrist over and over while I sat on your lap. I remember bringing you your bantos rods and watching you getting ready to leave. And the smell of incense.”

“Dried talos root and melania leaves,” Teyla filled in.

Torren nodded with a small smile. “There was also a rug in the middle of our quarters and a wooden chest in the corner with all my toys in it. It had … janeisa blossoms carved in it.”

“Yes. When you were very small, you would trace the petals with your finger. At least, until I opened the lid and got you what you were truly after.”

Torren glanced down at his feet, smiling but disconcerted.

“I suppose those things are all gone now,” Teyla said wistfully. She hadn’t given it any thought before, but her belongings must have been scattered amongst her friends and her people long ago. Most she could easily do without or replace. Her clothing certainly held no special attachment, nor her furnishings. Those she would have been glad to have someone else make use of them. But there were certain items that were beyond price. They were not only ties to her past, but her final connections to people she would never see again. The thought of having lost them ground deep in the pit of her stomach.

“Not … all.”

Before Teyla could ask what he meant by that, Torren walked out into the hallway and stopped just outside the door to speak with a man who must have been waiting out there for him. The man gave him a box with an open top. It was large enough to fill his arms yet light enough that he carried it with no resistance. Torren graciously tipped his head at the stranger. When he returned, his eyes betrayed satisfaction and a glimmer of excitement.

“Before the decision was made to revive you, Dr. Miller warned me that your transition into this time might prove difficult. So, after you regained consciousness, I sent a message to New Athos and had these brought back for you. I am sorry there is not more, but … I thought that these might help you feel more at home.”

Torren laid the box to rest on the mattress next to her, its contents in full view. Teyla was so taken by the thoughtfulness of the gesture that she had yet to look. She smiled up at her son. “Thank you.”

He nodded and motioned at the box, inviting her to go ahead. “Please.”

The first things Teyla noticed were candles, no more than a dozen of them, a staple of Athosian décor that she had longed for since waking up. Small though they were, the warm glow of candlelight and the accompanying scent of smoke always reminded her of nights spent huddled around the fire with family and friends, swapping stories of the day with the blessing of a new one laid before them. It conjured a sense of closeness with those around her and made any space, no matter how stark or far away from home, more inviting. An Ouros pouch lay within as well, embroidered in the symbols of the Ancestors. She did not open it, knowing it would contain incense and oils for her use as well. She already detected the mildly sweet aroma of her favored flower, the melania blossom, wafting up and tickling her nose. Meant to heal and rejuvenate. Torren would not have packed these things himself, but whoever had had put much thought and care into the task. She would have to remember to thank them one day.

There were other small items inside of a similar vein, common to any Athosian household: a beautifully sewn meditation mat, a prayer scroll, even a knife. But she stopped short when she spotted a few things of a much more personal nature, items she recognized. Tears filled her eyes.

Three small hardbound books looked up at her, their covers faded with time. The collected works of Plato, William Shakespeare, and Elizabeth Barrett Browning—all gifts from Elizabeth Weir. A ring bearing a gemstone from the Denuvian mines, so deeply red it appeared black, presented to her at her coming of age ceremony by Charin. Her necklace. The ties had grown coarse and brittle, but it was the exact necklace her father had made for her when she was only a child, her head barely past his hips. The very same one John had returned to her and so tenderly tied around her neck at their first meeting.

The pilot and his princess.

Upon seeing it, the last vestiges of Teyla’s composure nearly fled her.

“I hope these are to your liking,” Torren said.

Emotions heavy in her throat, Teyla nodded and smiled. “Yes. Very much.”

A wide grin spread across his dark features, lighting him up from within. “I am glad.”

Teyla didn’t know whether it was a conscious move on his part or not, but Torren edged closer to her as she peered down at the last few remaining things and picked through them with care. He seemed more relaxed as they went along.

To her surprise, Teyla found a lock of Torren’s hair inside a tiny brown satchel; a memento from his first haircut soon after his first birthday. There was also one of his swaddling blankets, folded carefully and tucked near the bottom, and a tiny stuffed elephant Rodney had bought for him in San Francisco. She was sure he’d heard what they were before from his father, but Torren listened intently as Teyla explained their significance.

Finally, she uncovered a pair of wooden figurines hidden in the corner farthest from her. Only a few inches tall, they depicted a father and daughter. They had been painted at one time. She recalled that the girl once wore a blue dress. “My father bought these in the marketplace on Nerys,“ she said, holding them up for Torren to see. They fit easily in the palm of her hand. “You used to get on the floor and pretend they were Casthenia the Wraith Seeker and …”

“G.I. Joe,” Torren finished. He let out a surprised chuckle. “I remember.”

Teyla’s eyes shone as she laughed along quietly. “You had a particular love for Col. Sheppard’s … for John’s bedtime stories. He often made them so exciting that I had a hard time getting you to sleep afterward.” Vivid and joyful memories all of them. Turning her attention back to the box as a whole, Teyla sighed. “So many of the things we treasure most—things given to us by those we care for,” she mused aloud.

“I know what you mean.” Torren wrung his hands while a distant look overtook him. “There was … one afternoon when I was thirteen, Father and I planned to spend the day cutting down a tree that had failed to return from the winter. The trunk had weakened, and according to Father, one strong spring storm would be all it took to bring it down on our tent.”

Torren looked up and met her attentive gaze. “It was important that it get done as soon as possible, but … Uncle John walked into the village that day. I remember watching them from a distance speaking to one another and being angry with Father, because I was sure he would make me help him instead of allowing me to spend time with Uncle John.” He huffed. “I could not have been more surprised when Father told me I had leave to go, that the job could wait one more day.”

“We went fishing,” he continued. “We usually did, and as usual Uncle John caught nothing, leaving it to me to catch our lunch. And once we had eaten, we played baseball in the clearing.”

Teyla smiled, finding it easy to picture. It was wonderful to hear that John had been such a meaningful part of her son’s life.

“He stayed and gathered with us by the fire that night. He didn’t stay overnight often, but that night he did. He was … different somehow. More open. He laughed more than I had ever heard him.” Torren's smile quickly ebbed, replaced by something more somber. “In the morning, I walked with him to the Stargate. And before he left, he, uh …” His jaw locked tight, he reached into his breast pocket and pulled something out. “He gave me this.”

He placed it in Teyla’s hand. An unshed tear finally emerged and streaked down her cheek. In the span of her palm, she and John stood together on the balcony outside the Tower in their uniforms, laughing. She remembered the afternoon the photograph had been taken. It had been nothing special, just a beautiful day they wanted to enjoy. It had been less than a month before her final mission. The edges of it worn and wrinkled, it was obvious that Torren had carried it with him for a very long time.

“That was the last time I saw him,” he said.

Teyla nodded silently. Another tear wet her face as she gazed at the picture, imagining what John must have felt as he said goodbye to Torren in his own way.

“You may keep that as well, if you wish.”

Teyla shook her head and gently pressed it in his palm. “It was given to you. It is yours.” She would have the opportunity to make many more memories with John. New ones. This one belonged to Torren.

Torren carefully stored it away again. “It was many years before I truly understood what he had done. He is an honorable man.”

“You would be hard-pressed to find another his equal.”

“I believe he feels the same about you,” he said.

Teyla looked at her son, mute in the face of his understated certainty. Torren was an astute and observant man. He had no doubt heard things from Rodney and Ronon through the years, and witnessed plenty since her emergence from the stasis pod, when her near comatose state had left her unable to comprehend much of the world around her.

He knew.

How could she even begin to explain to him what it was she and John shared when she could hardly explain it to herself?

Thankfully, Torren chose not to ask. “I hope that, when you are sufficiently recovered, you and he might accompany me to New Athos. I must return soon, and there are people that greatly wish to see you again. And many more that would like to meet you.”

“That is difficult to believe,” Teyla said, pleased by the unexpected invitation.

“You might be surprised,” he said. “Our people have a love for stories, and tales of your fights against the Wraith and of your friends in Atlantis have long been among Halling’s favorites.”

“How is Halling?”

“He is well. Age has hardly slowed him at all. He has certainly not forgotten his friend, Teyla, Seeker of New Horizons.” Torren paused. “There are … two in particular I would have you meet.”

“Who?”

He opened his mouth and nothing came out. Then, after a moment, he said, “Taya and Myrrin. My daughters.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, a new chapter! Thanks have to be said to nacimynom, the most talented beta a girl could ask for. To alicesandra, for always being a willing sounding board and cheerleader and knowing how to make me smile. And, this time, to a few other friends (you know who you are), who jumped in to help when I was hopelessly stuck on one line of all things, which happens when you’re writing one of the most difficult chapters of your life. As a result, my amazing readers, there is a small tidbit in here generously donated by Wedjatqi. 
> 
> Enjoy!

"Arms up," Teyla said.

Businesslike, she helped Torren wiggle into his pajamas. He poked his head through the shirt. His black locks stuck out this way and that, still damp from his bath. She couldn’t help but laugh as he promptly ran from his room with an exuberant hop and a rhythm in his step that could only be understood by a child of three.

“Sto-wy, sto-wy, sto-wy, sto-wy …” he chanted.

“Colonel Sheppard still has a few things he must finish at Command. It may be awhile yet before he comes,” she said as she followed behind.

Torren bounded along as if he hadn’t heard. “Unca John tell a sto-wy.”

Teyla sighed. It was an ongoing battle of wills between her and John—the issue of what Torren was to call him. From the time her son was old enough to comprehend such things, she had tried to instill the idea that John was a man of great respect in Atlantis and should be addressed as such. John, on the other hand, preferred to be Torren’s “Uncle John”, claiming “Col. Sheppard” made him seem much too serious. Consequently, he did his best to undermine her efforts every chance he got, usually accompanied by a wily grin meant just for her. He was obviously winning—and knew it, too—but she hadn’t quite given up yet.

She paused on the threshold of the living room. Torren plopped down onto the floor, which was littered with toys, bobbing his head to his favorite tune of the moment. “Unca John tell a sto-wy, Unca John tell a sto-wy. Unca John tell a stooooo-wy!”

Teyla rolled her eyes and smiled.

There were few who could excite her son the way John did. Torren lit up whenever he was around. Teyla’s separation from Kanaan had been a long time coming on both sides and, for Torren’s sake, they tried to ensure he visited New Athos often. But with the absence of his father the new norm in their lives, Torren looked forward to the time spent with his de facto uncles more than anything—John, most of all.

Truth be told, Teyla had come to value that time with John as much as her son, if not more.

Happily immersed in this pleasant fog, thumbprints of her consciousness smudged the lines of reality to wipe over some of the smaller details. Pieces of furniture perfectly straight, where they had been crooked. Beds neatly made, when they hadn’t been. Items put away that had been set down and long ignored. This hadn’t been the delightfully normal evening she was imagining, with John coming over and regaling Torren with his latest tale. But Teyla brushed those thoughts away and concentrated instead on her son’s face. Did the changes really matter? Even if they did, was it so wrong to want it end differently this time?

Perhaps, this time, she would finally ask John to stay after Torren went to bed. They could share a drink. Talk. It might be nice to spend that time together. Just the two of them.

“Momma, look.” Torren waved a crudely made Lego tower in the air. “I did it!”

Teyla moved into the room and sat crossed legged on the floor. Torren placed his creation in her palm for inspection.

“Dere’s a window and a door. It’s big, so da jumpers can be inside. Dat’s where dey sleep.”

Teyla made a show of looking it over with a discerning eye. With a bright smile, she finally said, “That is beautiful, Torren. You will have to show Colonel Sheppard when he arrives.”

Torren gave his neck a cocky jiggle and turned his attention back to the toys. “Unca John tell a sto-wy.” “Yes, my son. Uncle John will tell you a story,” she said a little quieter. Her heart constricted as it came to mind that he never did. Not that night, nor any soon after.

_“Momma?” A tiny nudge to her shoulder._

Teyla looked over at her son, who had begun to push a plastic Army vehicle across the rug. The corner of her mouth ticked upward and she reached out to pick up a few of the toys.

_"Momma …” Torren’s frightened voice shook in close proximity to her face. “Momma?”_

As she started to clean up, Teyla found it harder and harder to ignore the press of memories regaining a foothold within her mind. Stabs of illness threaded their way up her limbs and knotted inside until her whole body hurt. Her throat was raw from coughing and a deep-seated ache fermented in her chest. It had been her constant companion for over a week, Teyla recalled. She had hoped to finish as quickly as possible, so she could rest on the couch before John came. He already worried enough for her. She had convinced herself that a few spare minutes would be enough to abate the most glaring of her symptoms, so that her rapidly worsening condition might go unnoticed.

She peered over her shoulder toward the bathroom. In spite of the bevy of pill bottles on the counter, clusters of discarded, blood-stained tissues resided in the waste bin. She planned to see Jennifer again the next morning to tell her the medications weren’t working. She only wanted a quiet night first. No picking, no prodding. A normal night with the two people that mattered most.

_“Momma ...”_

Teyla blinked and turned her head. “Torren?”

Oblivious to her shift in thought, he glanced up. His sweet brown eyes twinkled up at her.

“I love you. You know that, don’t you?” she asked quietly. Teyla ran her hand through his hair and around his ear, paying close attention as each delicate strand brushed her skin. “Can you remember that for me?”

He giggled, a sound that warmed her to the depths of her soul. “Momma …” he said, as if that was the silliest thing he had ever heard. “Will Unca John be here soon?”

In a move that seemed impossibly slow, Teyla pulled her hand back to find it trembling in midair like a leaf before a storm. The color beneath her nails had expired into a pale tinge of blue, and another coughing fit built within her, gurgling and metallic in the back of her throat.

“Soon. Very soon.” Teyla swallowed hard as her breaths turned liquid, forcing a smile. “You will let him in, won’t you?”

“‘kay.”

_“Momma?” Torren’s undersized fingers worried at her in frantic circles as his fallen tears seared a path down her cheek. “Momma! Wake up!”_

~~~~

Teyla’s eyes snapped open. 

A series of light clicks proceeded at her bedside—the duty nurse keying information into the monitoring system. After a minute or so, the clicking stopped and a careful voice reached out. “Can I get you anything? Are you warm enough?” 

There was no reason to pretend she was still asleep; they both knew she wasn’t. Yet Teyla lay perfectly still, lifeless. Like a sculpture of flesh and bone that had forgotten how to be, she didn’t even spare a brief, aseptic glance in the nurse’s direction. After a momentary standoff, the by now familiar squeak of shoes against tile heralded the nurse’s departure. Mercifully alone, Teyla gradually returned to herself enough to resettle into her pillow. 

Night had fallen, she observed as she drowsily acclimated to the present. The infirmary didn’t have windows, and its centralized location didn’t allow for a great deal of exterior light, but Teyla had spent enough time in Atlantis to be attuned to its nuances and feel when, outside, the last vestiges of evening disappeared and the city lights took up the torch.

That hadn’t changed.

People moved around her, set in their own routines and purposes, and she watched them as if still locked inside a dream. The sound of their many steps mingled with the distant bleeping of medical machines and the occasional grunt of pain from behind one drawn curtain. Soon, there would be discussion of dinner plans and a shift change, and then the routine would begin again. Different faces performed the same tasks as if nothing had changed, a hoard of moving figures maintaining a small, static universe of which she had become a part. One where Torren’s shadow lingered in the doorway, straight and tall, even though his person had departed some time ago, while the scared voice of his younger self continued to sound in her ears, unmindful of the fact that it was twenty-six years later and the events of that night no longer mattered to anyone but her.

And John. 

The thought diffused throughout her consciousness as she wondered where he was. It had been hours since he had gone to meet with Col. Edison, and he had promised to return soon. 

Sluggishly, Teyla adjusted her gaze to take in the infirmary entrance, but had to look away again when a tall, well-built soldier with dark hair was brought in favoring his right knee. Sliding backwards into a place where yesterday and today were one, she had mistaken him for John. She had thought for an instant he was hobbling in after another mission gone awry. She accepted her error readily enough, but a shudder cascaded up her spine when she realized she still fervently expected to see him enter at any moment, leading her son by the hand as he wordlessly searched each bed until he found his mother’s face. A little boy who, only days ago, had cried himself to sleep against her, her arms too weak to hold him, her heart too full not to. 

Teyla was in awe of the man Torren had become. He served his people the best way he knew how, protected their interests in the Coalition and expanded their influence wherever he could. And they had talked more of his family, of Kanaan, his children, and his Chosen, an Athosian woman he had known as long as he could remember. 

He waffled some when it came speaking about the woman he’d taken as his wife. In the end, he admitted only to kissing her once when they were children and a fleeting adolescent crush. And her name: Mykka. At first, Teyla had found his reluctance endearing. Her son sat before her flushed and shy, at once a man with two young daughters of his own and the infatuated teenager she had never met. What kind of man would share the details of a relationship he held dear to merely anyone? 

But then, with rueful awareness, she realized that was exactly who she was. Just anyone. She and Torren had a connection, it was true, but she was also a stranger. It was too soon. 

Despite that, Teyla had been genuinely happy to hear that he was content with his life. The restive, sometimes argumentative adolescent he’d described had come into his adulthood without the Wraith marauding the galaxy and swallowing up those he held dear. Teyla had listened and wrapped herself up in the details of his life like a protective blanket. She had tried to see only what was, not what was lost. Yet with every smile from his lips, every muted chuckle, it became clear that her little boy was gone. The one she vividly remembered taking his first tottering steps and crawling into her lap when he was tired had vanished in the blink of an eye. 

The title of grandmother didn’t mean as much as she thought it would. She had barely gotten to be a mother. 

Unable to completely disguise the pain caused by that understanding, Teyla’s portion of the conversation had gradually diminished and, concerned he was tiring her, Torren had left her to rest. She had sent him off with a smile. She had since gone quiet.

A while later, Madison materialized inside the bubble of Teyla’s thoughts like a white-coated specter newly formed out of the ether. Her inherent sunniness, normally welcome, cast an ill-fitting light into the sterile environment, which had grown dark to match Teyla’s mood. 

“Time for another scan. Let’s see how we do, huh?” Madison said as she and the duty nurse began to prep Teyla to be moved. 

Madison talked from the moment they maneuvered Teyla into the wheelchair, during the ride to the rear of the infirmary, all the while she was underneath the penetrating light of the Ancient’s scanner. Teyla heard only snippets of what she gathered were the details of a largely average day. Something about an ice pack and an ortho consult for the soldier from earlier. A series of post-mission screenings for Team Six. A stern lecture due to an unnamed American scientist, who was apparently willfully eating his way toward a heart attack. 

“From the moment I took over this posting, he’s been swearing up and down that he’s watching his diet. He forgets that I see him in mess hall all the time. I know for a fact that his favorite food is grilled cheese with bacon and tomato. Had it two nights ago with a side of fries,” Madison said with a wry smirk. 

Madison gave no indication she expected conversation. It was just as well—Teyla didn’t have it in her. 

“Just a few more minutes, Teyla.” Madison glanced over Teyla at the readouts.

Unresponsive, she merely closed her eyes and settled into the wash of nanite pin pricks within her body. It wasn’t as if she had any choice in the matter. It wasn’t as if the results would make any difference. 

She was cold and her arms were empty. 

~~~~ 

“C’mon, Teyla. That’s it.” Madison coaxed her back into bed. With lackluster energy, Teyla lifted her legs and the doctor put her sheets back in order while the nurse replaced Teyla’s IV. 

“You okay?” Madison asked, once she was satisfactorily tucked in. “Too warm? Not warm enough? I can bring you another blanket or take one away … How do you feel about socks? For? Against?”

Teyla’s despondent gaze slowly shifted, dimly aware of the glances that had been passing between Madison and the nurse as they watched her every move. 

Madison’s lips curved into a pensive frown. “Hmm … An abstention. Interesting.” 

It was clear Madison wasn’t going to stop prodding her until she received something for her efforts.

“I am fine,” Teyla said in a tired voice. An anchor weighed heavily on her chest. 

Madison paused a moment before she said, “Okay. Good to know.” She picked up the leads connecting the sensor pads to the heart monitor and set about replacing the pads to the left of Teyla’s sternum. She tipped her chin at the nurse in hushed dismissal. The nurse took the cue and strode away. 

“Tomorrow we’ll have the physical therapist come in and assess your muscle strength,” Madison continued as she worked. “The nanites will repair the damage to your muscle tissue, but according to your pre-stasis records, it’s been a while since you’ve been able to get around like you were used to. I’d like to see where you are and, if need be, we can implement a few exercises. I want to see you back on your feet as soon as possible.”

Teyla nodded absently. 

Madison took a hard look across the bed but refrained from further comment. Instead, she double-checked the instruments and made notations on Teyla’s chart. When finished, she rolled the wheelchair into a nearby corner and lifted the flexible seat in the middle so the entire construct folded obediently into place. Teyla knew from ample experience that these sorts of chores didn’t typically fall within a doctor’s domain, yet Madison did them without qualm.

As she smoothed her strawberry-streaked bangs back over her forehead, Madison’s gaze settled on the box Torren had set atop the rollaway tray table. “Do you want anything out of here before I put it away for safekeeping?” Although patients were allowed a few of their personal effects, standard practice was to keep them to a minimum to ensure the staff had ample room to work in case of an emergency. 

Teyla considered the tall, stainless steel cabinet that stood against the wall across from her bed, and then rested her gaze on the box, slightly anxious at the thought of being separated from what little she possessed. Her things would be protected until she was finally able to take them home once again, but she didn’t know when that would be or where. She didn’t even know if she had a home anymore. 

“Yes,” Teyla said haltingly. “Please.”

Madison pushed the floppy cardboard flaps of the box out of the way and placed it on the bed within easy reach. Teyla’s fingers curled into tight balls against her stomach, before she tentatively leaned forward to focus on what was inside. 

With surprisingly steady hands, she gingerly rummaged through its contents. Her fingers crying out for texture and purpose, she thumbed through one of the books, but she was only able to read a few lines before her thoughts began picking the words apart letter by letter and flinging them off the page. As she replaced it, Torren’s tiny stuffed elephant looked up at her with glass eyes, its trunk stuck in a slight yet permanent bend to the left. At random, she picked out the Ouros pouch. 

A half-smile buoyed Madison’s features, encouraging her as Teyla undid the ties on the leather bag and daubed a smear of scented oil in her hand. She judiciously smoothed it along her neck and the length of her arms, until a fine sheen glistened over her skin. The fragrance of Teyla’s favorite flower tiptoed subtly upward as she breathed in and out. 

“That smells amazing,” Madison said. 

Silence. 

“I don’t get to New Athos nearly often enough. They keep me too busy around here.” The doctor glanced around, searching. Madison, true to her heritage, had a gift for chatter. However, no one was immune from the occasional struggle that came with not knowing the right thing to say. “It was … really thoughtful of Torren to do this,” she said hesitantly.

Teyla’s expression was cut from marble, a façade of quietude she clung to because she couldn’t allow herself to react any other way. Torren was thoughtful, indeed. He was articulate, intelligent, responsible, and sweet. Everything she had ever hoped her son would become. But he had become all those things because of someone else’s efforts, someone else’s time, patience, and caring. He was not hers. Not truly. And that realization had come with a clarity that continued to sear through her very being.

Inside the box, her hand closed around blue soft spun cotton and pulled it free. 

The sound of raised voices on approach rumbled in from the hallway, seeming to distract Madison from her careful study of her patient. “I’ll be right back,” the doctor said with a smile that failed to fully form. She took the box with her and set it gently in the cabinet.

Teyla exhaled, feeling a modicum of relief at being temporarily unburdened by scrutiny. Relief was fleeting however, a transitory marker in the passage of time that never seemed to last. Her stomach in a knot, she absently stroked the supple weave of Torren’s baby blanket with her thumb and lifted it to her nose.

“I thought they made it pretty clear, once we got rid of the Wraith, they wanted to keep to their new hidey-hole and wanted nothing more to do with us.” John’s voice carried, stopping Teyla on the verge of tears. Rodney’s followed directly behind, both of them speaking in rapidfire succession.

“After ten thousand years of hiding from the Wraith, can you really blame them for being a tad xenophobic?” 

“Well, they did blow up a Stargate in my face,” John replied. 

“When are you gonna let that go?” 

“They nearly got you killed, too.”

“But they didn’t.” 

“And since when are you Mr. Rogers?” John asked. “You were always the first one to tell those little grey goons to stick it where the sun doesn’t shine. Woolsey couldn’t apologize fast enough to keep up.” 

John and Rodney came into view. Rodney’s face was contorted, appearing simultaneously intrigued and appalled. “First of all, that’s not the way I remember it. And second, I don’t think that’s technically possible. Their anatomy isn’t …” 

“Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. I don’t even know why you brought them up in the first place.” 

They paused in the foyer outside the infirmary doors. John was frowning and his posture tense with a particle of something else that allowed Teyla to see, for an instant, the full effect ten years had had on his features. Whatever had happened in the past few hours, it had aged him in a way time itself hadn’t. 

Rodney went on without missing a beat. “Well, given that you’ve been out of things for a while, I realize that a minor tiff with dimension-shifting aliens may not seem that important to you—” 

John’s head shifted sharply. “Hold on a sec. Define _minor_.” 

“A slight … war. On the grand scale of universal clashes, it’s fairly minimal. Probably,” Rodney awkwardly confessed, genuine surprise momentarily curtailing his speech. “I thought you went over all this already. Didn’t Edison upload all the reports for you last night?”

“I haven’t gone through it all yet,” John said, louder. “You just spoiled the ending.”

“Oh, that’s just so typical. Next time, I’ll have you plug your ears and hum the chorus of ‘It’s a small world after all’ until the important stuff is over. In the meantime, I’ll be over here trying to make a point!” 

With a doleful grimace, Teyla’s gaze briefly fled the two men, unable to settle anywhere but the blanket she clutched in her grasp. Considering all she had seen and heard today, especially the eruption that had occurred between John and Ronon, she was past being shocked to see that he and Rodney had finally dissolved into an argument as well. 

A grim cloud settled over John’s face. “It’s not my problem, Rodney. None of this is. Not anymore. Frankly, I don’t see what your interest is in this either. Just go home. Take Katie to dinner and forget it.” 

Rodney set his chin. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that. After everything we’ve done, after everything you put me through … John, you have no idea—” 

“Don’t.” John was adamant. “Rodney, don’t.” 

“If you would take just five seconds and think for once, you might remember that it actually matters to some people what happens to you. It may not matter to _you_ , but—” 

“Alright, you two.” Madison’s compassion gave way to authority as she stepped out from the doorway, where she’d witnessed the entire exchange. Shifting effortlessly from one role to the other, she placed herself between the two men. “Uncle Mer, General Sheppard’s right. Maybe you should think about calling it a night.”

“But …” he said, mouth agape. 

“Give Auntie Katie my love,” she said. “Tell her I’m sorry I can’t make it tonight. I’ll try to meet her for breakfast, okay?” 

“But you …” 

“Oh! And Dr. Davenport’s birthday is next week. Could you ask if she has any idea what he wants or might need? You know I hate waiting until the last minute.” 

Stymied, Rodney’s eyes darted between her and John, who had retreated to a strategic distance, restlessness coming off him in waves. “Wait, who’s …”

“Your next door neighbor, Uncle Mer,” Madison said. “Thick glasses, works in xenobiology. Has for eight years. I’m surprised you haven’t learned his name by now. Auntie Katie says you’re constantly complaining about how he always bangs on the walls.”

Rodney got indignant. “Well, what possible reason could he have for doing that? The only thing I can think is …” He abruptly stopped, then his mouth immediately formed into a suspicious scowl. “Oh, no. You’re doing that thing.”

Madison looked innocently back. “What thing?” 

Rodney pointed at her. “That thing. That thing your mother does. The thing where she keeps talking and talking, hoping if she changes the subject enough times, I’ll forget what we were originally talking about. Well, it doesn’t work for her—” Madison’s face was dubious. “—and it won’t for you either, Judas.” 

“Uncle Mer …” 

“What’s wrong?” Rodney demanded. 

John’s head perked up at that, while Madison merely exhaled. “Nothing’s wrong.” 

“You wouldn’t be trying to get rid of me if nothing was wrong, now what is it?” Rodney pressed. Then his carriage abruptly tensed, and he gulped as if his mouth had suddenly gone dry. “Oh God, did something happen? Where’s Teyla?” 

Several things happened in the next few seconds. John’s head jolted frantically around, searching Teyla out through the windows, and then Rodney’s niece literally had her hands full preventing him from charging full tilt into the infirmary, while simultaneously trying to put a stop to her uncle’s unfounded hysterics. She spoke swift and domineering, the only way, Teyla knew, the two headstrong men would listen for the moment, and once the doctor had them in hand, her voice changed. It blended into the now muted environment, quiet yet strong, their attention glued to her every word.

At that point, Teyla looked away and shifted clumsily under the sheets, turning her back on the room at large. Being a topic for discussion was nothing new. Even the most conscientious of her caregivers had always had a tendency to underestimate the distance a dying woman could hear. She could easily imagine the sorts of things being said: Teyla has had enough for one day. Teyla is still weak. She needs rest. Perhaps we should have the psychologist come down tomorrow, as well. She isn’t adjusting as well as we’d hoped. 

Her recollections far too fresh, Teyla flinched as another voice fell into line. _She isn’t responding to medication. She can’t go back to her quarters. We’ve consulted every specialist we can think of._

_ I’m sorry. There’s nothing more we can do.  _

She burrowed into her pillow with Torren’s blanket nestled close to her chest. 

No, it was nothing new. That, however, did not mean she had ever gotten used to it.

~~~~ 

She sensed his approach more than heard it. He was alone, the overriding hush enough to suggest that Rodney had finally taken Madison’s advice and left for the evening.

With caution stunting his stride, John circled the bed. His hand, fidgeting, reached out to delicately drag the metal foot of the frame. The yellowish cast put off by the lights made him look ashen and drawn, but he stood tall. Still. Perhaps too still. 

“I haven’t seen that in a long time,” he said quietly, taking in her subdued manner.

Teyla didn’t have to look to know he was referring to her son’s little blanket, a vessel that carried the treasured memory of a newborn wrapped securely in her arms, his tiny features gazing solidly and peacefully up at her.

“Torren … brought some of my things for me,” she said in a tone scarcely above a whisper. She angled her chin to indicate the cabinet and the lonely cardboard box within. “Just there.” 

John wandered over and peered inside. A moment of silence followed. “He’s a good kid.” 

“He is a good man.“ A wilted smile skimmed the outer reaches of her lips. “He has children now.”

“He what?” John’s expression fell, her words impacting him like a physical blow. 

She nodded, distant. "Two. He has two daughters." 

The silence stretched, one moment creeping into the next and the next. John scrubbed his hand across his face, his brow furrowed and broken, and finally, without a word, he sat down. 

Teyla fingered the soft blue cotton, her hand starting to tremble. “It does not smell like him anymore, John.” Her voice sounded hollow, even to her own ears. She had missed so much. So much that the pain of all she’d lost had carved all emotion from her miraculously beating heart. 

His expression remained motionless, a still form rendered in regret. “I know.” 

~~~~ 

Hours passed and, for once, Teyla didn’t sleep. She was aware of everything, every rolling instant, every glance from a passing orderly. Yet she felt as if she was someplace else, watching from somewhere far away from everyone. Even John, who had hardly moved a muscle.

The computer tablet alight in his hand, he meticulously studied the mission reports he’d been given, occasionally swiping the screen several times in quick succession to jump ahead and then back. And then for long minutes he would stop, his dark stare fixed and his mind elsewhere. 

They were separate from everyone else, the two of them. Different. Teyla had seen it almost from the moment she’d awoken. But now they had drifted into their own worlds, each contemplating their own patchwork realities, only finding a bridge every so often when one of them found the strength to speak. 

Teyla had been first. Her voice softly infiltrated the void as she asked where Ronon had gone. 

John glanced up from his reading. There was a long pause. “Ambassador Blackwell invited him to the mess with Colonel Edison. Apparently, it’s been a while since he’s been here in person. She wanted to catch up.” 

Teyla gave a small nod and looked him over. “You should eat as well.”

Deep hazel eyes met hers. “I’ll see if I can get someone to bring down a turkey sandwich or something.” 

The exchange ended there. A brief meeting and their two paths once again meandered away. 

Their next meeting was actually Madison’s doing. The doctor strolled up to Teyla’s secluded corner of the infirmary. She had shed her lab coat and taken down her hair, looking all in all like she was finally ready to call it a night. 

Teyla was vaguely surprised when a cursory glance in John’s direction revealed the cast off remains of a dinner tray to his right. She was heartened to see he had eaten, at least. 

Teyla turned her attention back to Madison, who carried a lidded styrofoam cup in her left hand, the straw tipped with a paper covering. Madison’s mouth curled into an easy arc as she drew near. “Ordinarily, the nurses get to do this kind of thing, but I wanted to do the honors this time around.”

With little ceremony, she handed Teyla the cup and her fingers gradually closed around the base. 

“Your scan showed improvement enough that I think you can handle it now,” Madison said as Teyla plucked the remaining wrapper off the end of the straw. Doubtful, she took a sip.

It was one of the infirmary’s protein milkshakes. Banana flavored. Having not ingested solid food for several weeks even before entering stasis, it was the gentlest choice for her system, until her digestive tract (along with her other vital functions) was completely healed. 

She drank in a little more. It felt heavenly. Cool, creamy tendrils coated her throat in a flood of sweetness and sank blissfully downward to form a pleasant weight in her stomach. The effect was almost overwhelming. She had been on IVs for so long she had forgotten how good food could taste.

Her hand shook as she held the straw to her lips. Trying not to cry, Teyla took another swallow and that was when she felt John’s hand close around her shoulder.

“It’s okay,” he said, barely audible, when she peered across at him needing that reassurance. He gave it over and over, not only in words but with a look, or in the pressure of his fingers. Although the troubled aura of his thoughts never quite left his eyes, he was with her. She wasn’t alone. 

Teyla steadily relaxed and the coil around her stomach started to loosen. With both of them under her careful observance, Madison eventually seemed satisfied.

“There,” she said. “I think that’s a good place to start.” 

After that, John and Teyla’s paths seemed to run closer together, not straying as far before coming back to trade a few words here, a few there. There came to be less distraction in John’s aspect, and finally he took a tentative step forward. 

“I’m … sorry I was gone so long. I didn’t think.” He paused, catching his lower lip in his teeth in abstracted thought. His smoldering gaze wavered. “I didn’t know it would take that long.” 

“What did Col. Edison want?” she asked. 

John answered offhand. “Some of the higher-ups at the SGC wanted a word.” He made an attempt at a smile. “That’s what kept me, actually. Turns out interstellar conference calls aren’t that easy to set up and then ... well, you know how the brass like to listen to themselves talk.”

“What was it they wished to discuss with you?” she asked warily. Thus far, John had maintained a general avoidance of the topic. 

“Nothing really. Nothing I didn’t expect, anyway.”

John didn’t seem concerned about what his superiors had to say—or former superiors, she was still unclear as to which was more accurate given the circumstances. But his aloof attitude notwithstanding, Teyla was worried. After all, he would be wearing a bruise on his jaw for the next week or so from the last person to have taken issue with the manner of his departure. Fortunately, his debt to Ronon had been satisfied quickly, albeit painfully. She was disinclined to think John would find such easy forgiveness with his military. 

If he was to face disciplinary action because of her, because of the promise he had made …

Teyla schooled her features against the anxiety at play within.

“There was no trouble?” she asked.

He answered with a disinterested shrug. “They said stuff. I said stuff. In the end, I think it went pretty well.”

“Are you certain?”

John’s brow furrowed and a frown touched his mouth. “Look, I’m not gonna lie and tell you everything was all sunshine and daisies, but …”

Teyla looked away, uneasy about what he would say next. 

“Teyla.” John took hold of her chin and brought her back, his features serious. “It’s been sixteen years. My resignation was made official a long time ago, and most of the guys who would’ve wanted my hide pegged to the nearest wall stopped caring when they left the service.” 

His fingers fell from her face and rested instead on the mattress. “There was even a friendly face in the crowd,” he offered with a backward smile. 

“Who?”

“Lorne. He outranks me now. Got himself a couple of stars.” There was an unmistakable suggestion of pride about him. John had always thought a great deal of his XO. It must have been gratifying to see that he had gone far in the interceding years.

Teyla was happy for Evan as well, but for the moment, she was mostly relieved. Surely, he had spoken for John. “You have been released from your official obligations, then?”

“Technically. They want to talk again soon.” 

There was a moment of quiet where John grew distant and his gaze fell to the floor.

Her voice small in response to his reticence, Teyla asked, “What about?” 

Clearly preoccupied, John slowly shook his head. “I don’t know.” He looked squarely at Teyla. “Right now, I don’t really care.” 

But he did know—or at the least had an idea; it was plainly etched on his face. 

“Does it have something to do with what Rodney was saying earlier?”

John released a rush of air through his nose and smirked, but the sudden whiff of amusement blew away quickly. “Rodney’s doing what he always does: he thinks he knows best and doesn’t care who knows it. He’s made a career out of it, and more often than not, I think it’s what he does for sport. The thing is Rodney doesn’t understand everything.” 

Teyla didn’t either. She had listened intently to John’s every word, his every inflection, but with all that only one understanding came to light.

“There is something else, isn’t there? Something you have not told me.” Her voice was as smooth as silk, yet the bitterness there would not be hidden, not even for his sake. 

Conflicting emotions spread across John’s features like a plague. “Teyla, I …”

“It is alright, John. You do not need to tell me. It is not important,” she said, terse and final. Her mood turning on a dime, resentment poured off her tongue like acid. 

It wasn’t. It wasn’t alright. Not at all. But she was sick of asking questions when he was obviously unwilling to answer.

There was a hole inside her. It felt wrong, and twisted and writhed like a thing possessed.

Aware she was being irrational, she pulled away abruptly, unable to look at him, and whatever doorway they had opened slammed shut. Teyla didn’t see the hurt descend on John’s face. She retreated so fast she could hardly see anything.

Her son had told her that people called her Seeker of New Horizons, but she felt windblown, like she had been caught up in a turbulent squall and flung aimlessly into the cosmos. She was an anachronism, misplaced in time and confused, and she didn’t have the faintest idea of how to make things right again. 

She had made her peace with it. She thought she had made her peace with it. 

Why had this happened? 

Her life wasn’t meant to be this way.

~~~~ 

“Alright, that’s it.”

John’s fierce tone shattered the oppressive stillness that had settled in between them like a blanket of fog, soundless and slowly smothering them both. Teyla startled from behind dead, half-lidded eyes and peered up at him. 

His jaw set with a renewed determination, he got to his feet and stalked to the corner where Madison had left the wheelchair. He pulled it back and rolled it to her bedside. 

Teyla slowly moved her lips, working her mouth around words that didn’t want to come. “What are you doing, John?” 

“Busting you outta here. I think you could use a break.” With no finesse whatsoever, he tugged on the armrests, which caused the entire apparatus to unfold. He crouched to his knee without a second glance her way and went about setting the brakes and foot rests. The whole time Teyla sat mutely shaking her head. 

“John … I do not know if I can.”

“Sure, you can. I’m here to aid and abet in any way necessary.” He looked up then, his hazel depths meeting hers, deep and strong. “I don’t know about you, but I’m sick of looking at these walls.” 

Kneading fretfully at her forehead, Teyla turned her head. Her gaze oscillated back and forth from walls to ceiling. At this point, they were all one heavy grey mass. She couldn’t remember it ever being any other way. “John …” 

He sprang back to his feet, unfazed by the uncertainty in her tone. He immediately peeled back the bedsheets and started bringing her legs around.

“John, someone will call security,” she tried again with no better luck.

“Let ‘em.”

“John … I cannot …” She couldn’t do this. Not anymore. Why could he not see that? 

His arms surrounded her waist and Teyla looked up to see his handsome face hovering near hers. His incorrigible grin. His eyes asking her to trust him. The pressure of hands at the small of her back becoming less a support and more a caress. Disarming.

“Just hang onto me.” 

Unable to tell him no, she submitted. She lifted her arms to encircle his neck and tipped her head to rest intimately in the crook of his neck, his willing prisoner. 

He raised her carefully up and soon she was in the chair, her IV bag unhooked from its pole and gently placed in her lap. Then John took one last tactical peek around the immediate area. It was late and most of the staff had gone, leaving only a skeleton crew to watch over Teyla and the two other patients there overnight. Currently, the attending doctor and nurses were in the rear of the infirmary near the lounge. No one was near the exit and that suited John just fine. He rolled the wheelchair straight into the hallway. 

“I figure we have about fifteen minutes before someone gets the good doctor on the horn,” he said. “Assuming Madison’s temper is anything like Rodney’s, once that happens, there’s gonna be a team of armed guards out looking for us.” 

Teyla closed her eyes and took a breath to shore herself up for whatever else was to come. “I suppose we had better hurry then.” 

“Exactly.”

In the end, they didn’t go far. Up three tiers and to the end of the hallway. The few people they passed paused in their tracks and gawked after them. Teyla’s skin pricked, unnerved by the attention, but John ignored it. When they arrived, a soft blue light on the control panel blinked and the door opened as if it had been waiting for them all evening. John didn’t hesitate. He pushed her through and out into the night.

At first Teyla was daunted by the sight in front of her, almost frightened. She wasn’t sure she could face this knowing she would have to go back to the infirmary and its dour grey walls soon. But eventually it was too compelling for her to shy away from.

It was relatively warm that night, though when Teyla inhaled, there was a crispness in the air that flowed within her, bursting cleanly into wild flurries that reminded her of autumn leaves, cool breezes, and the first snows of home. The hypnotizing continuous shoosh of rolling water surrounded her. Above them, a sea of stars shone through a dark blanket of sky. Seemingly eternal eyes watching down.

The salt of sea air touched her nose. Compelled by an emergent need to see more, Teyla gripped the armrest and tried to gather her strength. “John, help me.” 

When he saw her struggling to get her feet beneath her, he clasped her elbows, a look of concern across his features. “You sure?”

“I wish to stand on my own two feet. For as long as I am able,” she said. “Will you help me?”

The small patch of skin between his eyes creased as he considered her request. 

He nodded.

“Do not let go,” she said.

A smile appeared, small and brief. “No chance.” 

He braced her with one hand around her elbow, while the other slipped to her waist. Her feet tingled with every step as she walked stiffly to the side of the balcony and leaned against the railing. His hand moved up her arm to her shoulder and he stood close and warm. So close that if she were to move back only a little, all of time and space would disappear. 

Before her the cityscape lit up the expanse like a great jewel in a boundless ocean. Waves crashed against the piers with intermittent sprays of white that stood out against the black waters. Colossal towers, the reach of the galaxy’s greatest city, sprawled out across the ocean, coloring and magnifying it into an obsidian candescence. 

Tossed about by the carefree wind, wisps of Teyla’s hair tickled her face. John’s fingers ran across the nape of her neck and tenderly pulled them back. She could scarcely breathe. 

“I thought you might need to see that some things haven’t changed,” he said in a low voice. “Atlantis is still here. She still looks on the same ocean you and I remember. The stars are the same. Sixteen years, twenty-six, all that’s happened and everything that didn’t … It doesn’t mean anything to them.”

A hint of wetness stung Teyla’s eyes. “It is beautiful, John. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said over her shoulder. As they lost themselves in the white noise of the waves, she felt his gaze on her and imagined his satisfied expression. Teyla glanced up at him, observing him as he took in the view as well, the pair of them together. As one. John’s hand moved slightly along the curve of her waist, a tentative brush of fingers seeking contact, extolling her form. A subtle shift of Teyla’s hips welcomed his touch and he seemed content to trace small circles in barely there movements as a strange sort of calm took root. 

“You’ve been pretty quiet tonight.”

“As have you,” Teyla said softly.

John’s response was equally reserved. “I’ve been thinking.”

“So have I.” 

She had been inundated with thoughts of every kind, shape, and feeling, unable to hold any of them back. Memories of the past and newfound knowledge of the present mixed up and jumbled together. Memories of walking across unexplored terrain with a weapon in her hand and Ronon, Rodney, and John all united by her side, supplanted with the image of the battle hardened Satedan general, the spirited old scientist, and John—somehow altered, lonely perhaps—laughing and talking together but all having gone their own separate ways. Visions of her grown son holding his daughters in his arms, gentle and secure like he was holding his own heart in his hands, rapidly replaced by the frightened child crying desperately over his mother on the night that everything changed. 

_Torren screamed, alone and incoherent, hiccuping while his little lips struggled to even form words. “Momma! MOMMA! Mm … mm-omma!!”_

That moment, plucked from semi-conscious strands of awareness and flashes of memory soaked in red, somehow seemed more real to her than anything that had happened since.

_ “It’s alright, TJ. It’s alright. I’ve got you, pal.”  _

“I feel as though I am constantly asking what has happened,” she said into the sky, “relying on others to tell me the things so I can piece together what should have been my life. My own memories. Things I … should know. I, like everyone, had my beginning and I have lived what I thought to be my end. I thought my journey was complete and now I have a tapestry of a life that is missing its middle. I …”

She had finally made her way home, only to find it gone. All those she loved had moved on without her. 

“John, I do not know what to do.”

John remained placid in the face of her confession, as if he already knew the minefield of confusion and uncertainty that lay before her. Did he feel it too? 

He inhaled and gradually let it go, hesitant. “While I was gone, the Air Force sent me what they had on my brother. Where he is, what he’s been doing. I, um …” Teyla turned her head to look up at him as traded one admission for another. He met her gaze, the faint lines around his eyes making him seem older, more tired. “Dave had a heart attack four years ago.” 

Teyla’s mouth dropped in shock. “I-Is that what happened to your father?” 

John nodded. “These things sometimes run in families.”

“Is he—” 

“He’s okay. He got lucky. Managed to recover,” he said quickly. “But he had to step down from the chair at the company. His son, Scotty, is heading the board now.” 

Little by little, Teyla’s horror was displaced by remorse. “Is this what you could not tell me earlier?” 

John stewed for a moment, then nodded. “That company was his whole life. And I wasn’t there for him.” 

Teyla looked out to the steady, undulating sea, not sure what she could say. It was her fault. All of it. John’s guilt, the end of his career … She was the reason he hadn’t been able to go to his brother and help him through what must have been an awful ordeal. More and more she felt selfish for relishing John’s presence, for taking comfort in him and being grateful that she was wasn’t alone in their shared situation. For needing him when he had obviously been needed elsewhere. 

Ronon had had a difficult time accepting her loss, but he had found happiness and fulfillment. He had a wife, six children, and had been instrumental in helping his people rebuild and begin to thrive again. Rodney, the same. Only he’d taken solace in his science, and though he’d never had children of his own, he was a devoted husband, brother, and uncle, to both his natural family and the one he had chosen. The way he spoke showed his obvious love for Katie and his great pride in Madison and her accomplishments. 

Torren was happy too. 

What had John given up? What if she had never accepted his promises, tempting and beautiful though they were? Would he have been here now with Rodney and Ronon, telling her about his wife? His children? His fulfilling life? 

The thought hurt her in more ways than she had supposed possible.

What had she done to him?

_ Chaos. Movement all around as fleeting images of faces spilled in. Jennifer shouted orders, while Torren’s screams overtook everything else. Torren was further back, outside the frenzy in John’s arms, with John’s hand tight over his head to keep him from looking. John himself looked on. Helpless.  _

_ Her stomach heaved. _

_ “Roll her! On her side now!”  _

_ Red. Dark red.  _

_ Her eyes were heavy.  _

_ Black. _

_ A howling pain tore up her side and she opened her eyes again. Lights blinded her from overhead. The universe careening, she bucked on the table. She clawed at her throat. Something had slithered down, choking her. A multitude of hands tried to hold her down, grabbing at her wrists and ankles as Jennifer yelled for more sedation.  _

_ “Doc?!” John’s desperate shout was deafening, but Teyla couldn’t hear Torren. _

_She continued to struggle, mindlessly possessed. Terrified. Not knowing where her son was. Something inside Teyla gave way and suddenly she was coughing up huge bubbles of slick, metallic fluid. Drowning in it. A shuttering glimpse out of the corner of her eye and she saw John next to Ronon, but no Torren._

_Good. He should not have to watch._

_The fight drained out of Teyla and the lights once again grew dim._

_John, don’t let him watch. Do not let him see._

_Jennifer’s voice came back, timorous and shaking. “Oh God … More suction. C’mon! Give me more suction!”_

_She didn’t want to die._

As Teyla looked back, it occurred to her that she’d witnessed the first signs of change in him that night, when the John Sheppard she had known had started to become the John Sheppard that stood beside her now.

When Teyla had finally opened her eyes again, emergency equipment, monitors, and tubes were everywhere and that now familiar feeling of helplessness and utter defeat hung over her like a shroud. Her mortality had become a figure in the room, no longer a nebulous moment in some distant future only biding its time. It was there. Present. Tangible.

She had been moved into a private room. Torren was laid out on the nearest cushioned surface—an upholstered blue bench—snuggled up in a blanket that was easily four sizes too big. He was asleep. One of the last things she was ever grateful for. 

John, however … 

Just outside the door, he and Jennifer had been arguing. The damage to John was already done. 

_ “Colonel, she isn’t responding to medication.”  _

_“Then try something else,”_ John hissed back, his shoulders so tense they looked ready to crack. _“You’ve got two galaxy’s worth of medical knowledge right at your fingertips. Find something, so I can take her home.”_

_“She can’t go back to her quarters. Colonel, Teyla’s condition is …”_ Bravely bearing up to his temper, Jennifer stood strong. _“John, she just had a massive pulmonary hemorrhage. A transfusion. And the damage isn’t confined to her lungs, it’s everywhere. In every system of her body. Her organs and tissues have deteriorated so much I—”_

_“Then get someone else. A specialist. Call Earth. They have to have something. I need you to find_ something.”

_“Colonel, we’ve consulted every specialist on every planet we can think of. Do you honestly think I haven’t tried everything?”_

John furiously shook his head. He was angry, anyone could have seen that. But that was the moment when his anger transcended a friend’s worry to become real fear. _“Doc, it’s Teyla.”_

_“Colonel …”_

_“No! Unless you’ve got a plan to make her better, I don’t want to hear it.”_ John’s voice had grown dark and implacable. _“Now, you … you can do anything. So, you fix this. Help her.”_

A grim cast had settled on Jennifer’s face, that final pronouncement already on the tip of her tongue. In the end, they had only days until the moment arrived when the truth could no longer be denied. When the doctor had sat down with them both and, with glossy wet eyes, said, “I’m sorry. There’s nothing more I can do.” But on this occasion, apparently unable to say it yet, Jennifer bowed to his wishes and John stood for a long time alone. He was as a sentry, trying to ward off the force that was poised to come in and claim her, single-minded and boundless in his determination. It was as if his fate had already begun to attach itself to hers, the precursor of the man whom Rodney had told her had never been the same. 

It was a foolish thing to become so tied to someone whose time was finished. John should have known better. Though his devoted presence had meant everything to her, for his sake, she shouldn’t have allowed it to happen. She should have spared him as much as possible, lessened the blow of her loss while she still could. Teyla had been given a renewed lease on life, but what had John sacrificed in the meantime?

“What did you do, John?” she asked finally. Tears streamed full and free down her face. “What did you do?”

Behind her, he stirred.

“What I had to,” he said in a low voice, this time with no hesitation or doubt. He nuzzled her neck. His lips grazed her hair and the skin of her cheeks as he pressed against her. He seemed to be reverently breathing her in as though it was a gift simply to be able to touch her. “What anyone else would’ve done in my position … when the one person they can’t live without is taken away.” 

Teyla leaned in and closed her eyes, hopelessly torn between love and selfishness. “I am so sorry, John.” 

“What for?”

Teyla shook her head and swallowed hard. “I wish I was strong enough to say you should have left me there. That you should have lived your life and forgotten me. But I am not. I do not know what I would do without you.”

His hands, vital and secure, tightened around her and spun her slowly to face him. “Teyla, I made my choice. If I had to do it again, I would.” 

“Why?” she asked, breathless.

“Because I missed you.” His hands gently cupped her cheeks. “Because I had ten years to experience what life was like without you and I missed you every single minute.” 

She looked up, overwhelmed by her uncertainties and a surging tide of elation. His thumb caressed her cheek as he studied her face. 

“Things may be tough right now, but I am in the only place and the only time I ever wanted to be. The one with you in it.”

He gathered her to him and Teyla returned the loving caress with equal fervor, nestled against his able body. Not in need of support. In need of him. His compelling presence and the passion burning in his eyes filled her up, almost making her feel like the woman she had been. Capable and in control of her destiny. 

“Do not leave me, John,” she said. 

“Never.” His eyes roved hungrily over her face. “Stay with me, Teyla.” 

She smiled, near trembling with joy. “Always.”

She could never let him go. 

John smiled too. “I was … thinking about what you said earlier. About me not being patient.” 

Teyla blanched, mortified by the way she had been acting and some of the things she had said. “Oh, John. Please do not take offense. I did not mean it.”

If he was offended though, his eyes, fixed on her, told another story. His fingers stroked along her skin. “No, you were right. I’m not.” 

He closed the remaining gap between their bodies. Teyla tasted his lips.

A caress made of velvet, their mouths molded and intertwined. Bolts of electricity crackled through her limbs, an enervating shot of warmth that gathered at her center. They kissed soft and eager, starving for one another, and got lost in the sweetest dance. One of give and take. Sorrow and solace. Man and woman. 

Teyla had never felt more alive.


	9. Interlude

_"You should have seen it, Teyla. You should have been there."_

Words floated to Teyla's ears like stray particles of light wafting in a dense white fog, muted and patched, a broken lament whispered from far away.

" _TJ's gone, Teyla. Kanaan took him."_

" _It's probably for the best … It was getting too hard for him … He doesn't understand … just until you get back … just until then …"_

Vague recognition drifted over her like wind across a glacier, a familiar pang of sweet longing buried within her, dormant yet alive, a seed waiting in winter.

_John._

Stories of war followed, news of ships that were destroyed and names of those who would not be coming home, some of whom she felt she should remember but couldn't. She didn't want to remember. To remember was pain, sorrow, all of which were behind her. She was finished, all her cares done. The words meant nothing now, just a subtle plinking melody in the back of her mind, low and soft, shrouded in a comforting haze of blue.

It was good here. She was still, safe while her body slept. She felt cool and light, almost as if she could fly away if she so chose, or sail away on a ceaseless ocean, the shore behind her while the breeze rustled through her hair. The thought of that freedom filled Teyla with a contentment into which she only longed to sink deeper. But the thing that actually brought a smile to her face was the thought of the balcony and of Atlantis. It was the memory of warmth, arms wrapped securely around her, and lips coupled in sincere, passionate desire. Him.

" _They're gone, Teyla. We did it. They're all gone, and I wish you were here to see it."_

His voice continued for a time, and Teyla listened. She imagined sometimes that she moved, that she rested her hand against the cold surface of the stasis field, wanting to reach out and touch him. Maybe she did. Maybe she was the one on the outside and he was the one miles away. The answer, however, did not seem to matter. Both of them were out of reach, lost.

Then, his voice suddenly stopped.

"John?" she murmured, searching for him beyond the impenetrable void. Only a faint echo returned.

_"I promised you, Teyla. I haven't forgotten …"_

"No," she said, a quiver in her throat, an inexplicable well of sorrow deep in her chest. "No, John, don't."

" _I'll do whatever it takes."_

"John, please," she tried though she knew he could not hear. He was gone again, no more than a shadow's breath in a vacuum of sound. He would not have listened anyway. Not about this.

Flashes of her past billowed across her consciousness in chaotic streams. Her life. Her pain. It was no terrible thing to die with those you loved around you, in the peace of their company, with dignity and grace. In that, she had been lucky. It was a privilege too few were allowed. Kanaan had understood that. Halling had, as well. On New Athos, her pyre was being built, and she was to rest with her father and Charin and all those who had gone before. She had been ready. She had also been heartbroken and horribly afraid. And only John had known that.

Bereft in his stark silence, she touched her forehead to the invisible barrier that kept them separated. It was cold. She was cold. Her fingers had started to tingle, a cluster of pin pricks that rapidly ballooned into an unstoppable swell. Her lips repeated the phrase "Don't. John, don't", but, to her shame, she found that she didn't want him to listen.

She called out his name as she restlessly pressed her hand against the field, growing more frightened and upset the longer he stayed away.

"Shh … shh, now. It's alright, Teyla."

"John?" Her chin snapped up, hopeful. Another stasis pod had appeared in front of hers. They shared the field, an expanse of blue glass that glowed under her fingertips. John was inside, his hand mirroring hers but unable to reach her. Sadness filled the lines of his face, the weight of his decision etched deep. Teyla wanted to cry.

"I promised, didn't I?" he said, his gentle eyes trained on hers.

"John …" She swallowed, a tear running down her cheek. "You should have stayed where you were. Now, you are trapped here. You cannot go back."

John smiled. "I know."

Sand started to pour into his pod.

"John!" Teyla shouted. Frantic, she pounded helplessly against the field as it piled up around his knees.

"It's alright," he said, calm as he was slowly being buried alive. "I am in the only place and the only time I ever wanted to be. The one with you in it."

"John, no," she sobbed.

A hand, strong yet gentle, abruptly surrounded her shoulder. "It's okay, Teyla."

She looked across at John. He smiled again, and a hand brushed her cheek. "Just open your eyes. Everything's fine."

Teyla blinked sporadically, her insides liquid and shaking. Her heart pounded out a furious rhythm as she observed him above her bearing a concerned frown, his eyes a burst of green against the background of the infirmary that for a moment was shattered and pixilated into billions of tiny moving pieces.

"Teyla, you alright?"

Teyla gulped down a cresting wave of bile in the back of her throat as her vision slowly came back together and nodded.

John's frown eased some, and his thumb swept tenderly across her cheek. "It was just a dream," he said. "Whatever it was."

Dark lines jutted out along the curve of his eyes. His clothing was rumpled, and his hair was disheveled. Teyla glanced past him to the next bed over, where he had been told he could sleep if he wanted. The sheets had been mussed, the remnant of the standard hospital corner still visible at the base of the mattress, but Teyla wasn't sure how much use the bed had seen. Just enough for him to feel trapped and alone, Teyla suspected. Or to be confronted by other demons that had hounded him back into the waking world.

He looked tired.

"I am sorry, John."

He shook his head. "They'll go away."

"What time is it?"

"Not sure." After a moment of scattered glances and a scrunched look at the heart monitor, he peered around the infirmary. Teyla did the same.

The lights were still somewhat dimmed, but there was a certain level of activity that simply did not exist in the dead of night. The overnight doctor had put his feet up in the lounge with his charts spread out in the seat next to him. He had a computer tablet balanced in his lap as he busily typed away, no doubt inputting the last of his patient notes. A trio of nurses, two of them bright-eyed and smiling, their skin missing the pale cast of one who's been up all night, chatted while a fresh pot of coffee brewed in the urn.

One of the nurses gave John and Teyla a cursory glance during a momentary lull in the conversation and then turned away. Teyla wondered how long her lack of concern would last. She felt sick. The nanites' movements caused faint draughts of nausea to continue to churn her stomach.

"Looks like it's almost shift change." John looked her over once again with his assessing gaze. "They'll probably be over to check your vitals in a few minutes."

Teyla made a soft noise of agreement, hardly able to take her eyes off him. She reached up and caught the hem of his sleeve, conscious of all potential observers, doctor and patient alike. She let the material slide along her fingers, lightly tugging one instant and accidentally brushing his bicep another.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

Teyla nodded, regretful, remembering their kiss and wishing she could pull him down to her. Soon, she hoped. She would be better, and they could lay in the comfort of each other's arms.

For now, though, she tried to remember that had only been another nightmare.

It was time for a new day to start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! This story isn't dead and neither am I. Thanks to those of you *coughCamycough* who kept on encouraging me to get back to this story, and to kickstand75 and nacimynom who helped me to polish up this little interlude. Hopefully, you all enjoy it. And now that inspiration has finally struck, I'm getting right to work with more. :-)


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